Remember Nothing
by BrowncoatGrl
Summary: Hope is grieving. But loss is responsible for more than just grief. When Hope's words lead the team to doubt her mind and her place, how can she save them from one of their own? And what price is sanity worth?
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is the fourth "novel" in a series. If you're finding this without reading the first three...you won't really get it. The novels leading up to this point are entitled: "Hope Personified", "War Pains" and "Old Habits". Please feel free to leave comments. And now, without further notice, the story.**

* * *

**Prologue**

March 15th, 2001

She stepped from her cozy and warm home to see the bright moon outside. Things had changed so much. So very much. Looking around, the moon shining brighter as the sun's rays disappeared completely, she saw some children out at the playground. Above her town, she could see them. Yes, this was her town. She had no one. But she had her town.

She started walking down the steep incline that was her playground—her missionary of death. Missionary. _He_ liked missionaries. He'd rubbed off on her. He'd fired her, too. Sent her up in flames with Darla. All alone, healing and pained, she wished she could hurt him. Her family was dead. More dead than usual. Now, she was truly alone.

"I can help you change that," a voice said to her slowly.

She turned her head towards the sound and eyed the young man quickly. Looking at him, she smiled. His body was badly bruised and he seemed exhausted. He moved closer.

"I can help you hurt Angel, too."

"My head must be inside out," she said simply.

"No. I'm just here to help."

"All gone, they are. No daddy, no baby, no grandmum."

"I can't help with the Spike situation. But I can with Angel. I can help you hurt him."

"You ring to me. Ring like a death bell," she said quickly, gazing at the town.

"I am dead. Temporarily, mind you. Had a bit of an altercation. But I'm here to help you anyways. I'm from the future."

Waving her hand around in circles near her ear, she remained quiet for a moment, then smiled dementedly, "Little girl chose daddy instead of you," she chuckled.

"And I want him to hurt for it. Just like you do."

"She's no little girl. She's a sun. She's…effulgent," she whimpered, leaning over and holding her pained memory in her hands. Her words reminded her of him. Her baby. He'd betrayed her. Gave her up to the Slayer.

"I want you to help me. I can't stay on the mortal plane. I need you to do the damage for me," he added hastily.

She looked up at him and peered at his eyes, "Pain and hate. All pain and hate. All so yummy. You want to hurt the little sun."

"Yes."

* * *

July 10th, 2003

The piano continued to play after the words were done and, for a moment, Angel could feel everything be right. Hope's mind wasn't on her pain. It wasn't on her loss. It was on them. As they floated around the dance floor, he could feel her give in completely, her contentment as great as his. She smiled and looked into his eyes, one of her hands wrapped around his neck, stroking the nape of it. Her other hand was against his chest. With his free hand, he stroked her cheek, feeling her warmth.

"I didn't know that song was out yet," she said.

Their forehead touched and their eyes closed, "I had Lorne get it for you."

"Hmm. I liked that movie," she smiled.

A few nights ago, Angel had rented a childish movie sequel and was surprised at how much Hope liked it. She couldn't get the one song out of her head and kept humming it around the Hyperion. Now that she heard it, it brought back that childish feeling of contentment.

"Remind me to thank Lorne," she whispered.

Their eyes still closed, he smiled, "I will," his voice was soft and almost inaudible.

"This is nice," Hope smiled, still stroking the nape of his neck.

"I'm glad you like it."

The gang had left for the night and Angel had rigged the lobby to be a dancehall. A large set of speakers started the song again and they continued to move in small circles around the tiled floor.

"I should probably get some sleep," Hope said tiredly.

Angel smiled at that, "Why?"

She opened her eyes to look at him, "Because you've been keeping me up the last few nights," she accused playfully.

His eyebrows rose, "And you're complaining?"

She shook her head once and then let it fall to his chest, "No. I'm not. Forget that I said it."

He kissed her on the forehead, "Okay."

They stayed silent for a moment, just listening to the music. The song ended and started again, the track on repeat. Angel ran his hands across Hope's back, grateful for the warmth her skin gave him.

"I was thinking that—" Hope started.

Angel leaned back slightly and pressed a finger to her lips, "No. No thinking. Not now," he said softly.

She smiled at that and let her head plop back onto his chest. She grabbed him around the back and hugged him close. She let her eyes wander.

Michael looked at her angrily.

Hope shot back away from Angel's embrace and stared at the visage of Michael; his body was rotting, his skin torn into shreds.

"Hope?" Angel asked, unaware of the image behind him.

"You chose the wrong man, sweetie," the zombie assured her.

"No," she whimpered.

Angel looked around and caught sight of the apparition and backed up to take a close hold of Hope.

"You let me die," Michael accused.

"I didn't…"

"I hope you're happy now," he said sarcastically, walking towards the two of them.

"Leave her alone!" Angel demanded.

Without warning, Michael lodged a stake into Angel's chest. All Hope could do was watch as her present floated away on the air. Michael walked through the cloud of dust.

"All you've got is me now, Hope."

* * *

Hope shot out of bed and looked around, seeing the emptiness surrounding her. She wiped sweat from her brow and slipped from the bed. She walked out to the balcony of her penthouse and eyed the bright moon. It gave an eerie feeling of day to the city, bathing everything in a blue haze.

A soft summer breeze wafted up from the street and cooled her feverish skin. She just stood there, feeling alone and torn from everything she'd ever known.

* * *

Michael stood in pure darkness, his feet wading in some primordial ooze. He looked at the copy of the Higher Light. Hope didn't know about him. Angel didn't know about him. And, best of all, He couldn't discern him. Michael smiled to himself. Even with that knowledge, the Old One wasn't in contact with Hope's mind anymore. He would be unable to alert her to the danger she would be facing.

He watched her through the mystical envelope of time that his new cohort had provided. And, as he thought of it, the creature came up next to him and smiled, seeing Hope standing there.

"She is an eyeful."

"She always has been."

"You can't show yourself to her; that you already know."

"But she'll see me."

"How do you plan on taking out the vampire?"

"I have a few mercenaries set up. Besides, I won't be the one doing the killing."

"Angel?"

Michael shook his head with a smile, "Hope."

"She won't kill him."

"She will if he tries to kill her."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Angel knocked again, knowing it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for Hope to ignore him for a few minutes. But, after the third knock, he reached above the molding and found the spare key. He opened the door slowly, sticking his head in first. He saw her sitting with her back to him at the bar. He stepped in fully, closing the door behind him. He stuck the spare key in his jacket pocket. Even after the door clicked, Hope was still.

"Hope?"

She turned her head slightly.

"You scared me."

"Sorry."

"Nightmare?"

She nodded, putting a glass of milk down.

He came up next to her, trying to hold her, "It's okay."

"What time is it?"

"Just after three. Thought I'd drop by before sunrise."

"What day is it?"

"Thursday."

"Did you need something?"

He stayed next to her, looking around the penthouse, "I think you should come back to the hotel. It's not good for you to be here alone."

"But I am."

He sat next to her and searched for her oblivious eyes, "No. You're not. We're here for you. And sitting here isn't doing you any good."

She ignored him, some tears forming at the corners of her eyes. He sighed. He took her hand.

She yelped and backhanded him. He fell off the barstool. She stood from hers. Shaken up, her wide eyes stared at him. He licked at his busted lip and stood. He walked closer.

"Hope?"

Her head cocked to one side painfully, her face scrunched up in a sob. She held her arms, crying. He came closer, embraced her. She cried.

"Shh. It's okay."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It's okay."

"I keep seeing him."

He sighed and nodded, "I know. It's okay. Come to bed. Get some rest."

She nodded and walked with him. He pulled up the covers for her and she slipped under them, grateful that they were still warm. As she shifted under the covers, he sat in the chair at the side of the bed. She curled up under the covers, still sobbing.

She turned back towards the wall and pulled the cover up to her chin. Angel just watched her as she fell back asleep. In the days since Michael had died and her powers had been severely diminished, she hadn't left the sanctity and insanity of her penthouse. She kept seeing Michael. It was making things worse. But she didn't want to leave. So, Angel had come in most every night and day to check on her. Each time was a little bit better. Each time she was a little more coherent. He sat there, watching her go to sleep.

* * *

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce walked into the empty lobby of the Hyperion hotel. He was the first one in. Although he knew Fred would not be in for some time, he expected Gunn and Angel to be in already. Since they'd returned from Denver, Hope hadn't come in. She stayed at her penthouse. She didn't associate with anyone. Wesley sighed and put aside the small box of doughnuts he'd brought.

One could always hope that today would be the day she showed up and wanted breakfast.

He turned on the laptop and waited for it to warm up while he started a pot of hot water in the coffee maker. He would use what water he wanted first for tea, then he would actually start the coffee. He took out his customary coffee mug and placed it on the counter, waiting for the familiar trickle of the hot water.

He heard a door close and he looked around the bend of the counter to see Angel walk in from the sewer access. Hope trailed in behind him and walked up the stairs without saying a word. Wesley, shocked as he was that she was in, didn't take offense. He waited for Angel to get into view then offered a good morning smile.

"Has Fred come in yet?" he asked a moment later.

Angel shook his head, "She'll probably be in soon. She wanted to say goodbye before she left for Texas," Angel said quietly.

Wesley eyed the obviously tired Angel, "And Lorne?"

Angel sighed, "I told him about Hope. He's leaving Vegas tonight."

"Do you think he can help?"

Angel just eyed Wesley.

Wesley nodded, "Coffee will be up in a few minutes," he changed the subject.

"Thanks."

"She decided to come in?"

"Yeah. She's still shaken up."

"Is that a trophy?"

Angel bit at his cracked lip, "She didn't mean to."

They both sat at the counter and Wesley pulled out the paper. Angel methodically took the sports page while Wesley looked at the fine arts section. It was customary now for the morning to start in silence. The death of Michael had impacted Hope; her grief naturally affected everyone else. Wesley looked up once to ask Angel a question and stopped himself. He looked down at the paper again.

"What?" Angel asked, his eyes still looking at the standings.

Wesley looked up towards Hope's path of exit. Angel followed his gaze, "How is she?" Wesley asked carefully.

Angel sighed, "She only had one nightmare while I was there."

"How long do you expect to keep this up? Going back and forth all hours? It's not good for either of you."

"She wasn't ready to leave before now. Maybe she'll stay here for a while. Should cut down on travel time."

"So, only one nightmare?"

"That I saw."

Wesley tried to sound optimistic, "That's an improvement."

Angel sat back on the barstool and sighed heavily, "I don't know what to do for her, Wes."

"What can you do? What can any of us do? She knew the man for five and a half million years. Losing that relationship—that friendship—is hard. Even for someone like her."

Angel's jaw worked. No one besides him knew that Hope was nearly powerless. She hadn't told them. Angel took that as they didn't need to know. Although he disagreed with her silence, he understood it and respected it. Only he knew what she did during the day. She stayed silent and meditated, trying to regain whatever powers were below the surface. The meditation had helped bring some of her second-hand powers back. But she was still a far cry from the omnipotent being she'd been before.

"Yeah," he allowed, "It is."

"When she's ready, she'll come back to the fold."

Angel caught the sight of the doughnut box and smiled wanly, "You brought doughnuts?"

Wesley shrugged, "One never knows."

Angel stood and took the box, "Do you mind?"

"Of course not."

Angel walked up the stairs towards Hope's room and didn't bother knocking on the door. He walked in silently and watched her for a moment. Sitting Indian-style, she tried to keep mental control over three rose quartz orbs she'd purchased from a metaphysical shop—or she'd sent Fred out for, at any rate.

"Hope?" he asked quietly.

The orbs gently landed back on the carpeted floor. Hope turned to look at him without saying anything.

He walked closer and opened the box of doughnuts. Her eyes smiled for her stone face and she took a raspberry filled doughnut, "Tell Wesley thanks," she said as she put it aside for later.

Angel waited, "You don't want more?" he asked, knowing a normal Hope would consume two or three before the day started.

She shook her head, "No, thank you."

Angel straightened and closed the box, "Okay. I'll tell Wes. If you need anything…" he trailed off as she eyed him.

He knew that there was no point in finishing the sentence. There was nothing she could use from him for the time being. All she wanted was to meditate. So, he would let her.

* * *

Wesley pulled the coffee pot off the heater and poured the hot water onto his tea bag. He refilled the reservoir and loaded a coffee filter and the crushed beans. The front doors opened and Gunn and Fred walked in. Wesley remembered that Gunn had picked her up.

"Good morning, England," Gunn tried to sound cheery.

"Morning," Wesley smiled back, offering him the movie reviews for the week.

Gunn smiled in thanks and looked around, "No Angel or Hope?"

Wesley stirred up his tea, "Upstairs."

"Both?"

"She came in?"

"She did."

"Did she say anything?" Fred asked.

"No."

"So much for a good day," Gunn sighed, opening the paper.

"Good day?"

"I thought it would be a good day," he shrugged, casting a glance at Fred.

She didn't see it and sighed, "I wanted to say bye before I take off."

"We'll miss you," Wesley smiled warmly.

"I'll miss you guys, too."

They all turned their heads as Angel walked back down with the doughnut box. Wesley looked up and waited expectantly.

"Well?" he asked finally.

Angel let the box plop back onto the counter, "She took one."

"Only one?" Gunn asked.

"At least she's eating now," Angel rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"But just one? That gal used to compete with me when it came to doughnuts," Fred reminded the three others.

"It shows improvement," Wesley said simply.

Gunn, Fred and Angel just eyed him. He backed down and took a sip of his tea.

"So, how long do we expect this to keep going on?" Gunn asked out of sincere concern.

"It took Angel three months to deal with Buffy dieing," Fred reminded him gently.

"A friend, a mentor…a previous love…she's lost a lot, Gunn. She needs more time than any of us would," Wesley pointed out.

"I just wish there was something we could do."

Fred looked at the others, "Should I say goodbye to her?"

Angel looked at her remorsefully, "I don't think you should. She's out of it."

Fred nodded understandingly, "You'll tell her bye for me, right? If she asks?"

Gunn nodded, "You got it."

There was a beep from outside the main doors. Fred looked at the doors, knowing the taxi was waiting. She looked at the guys and smiled warmly, "I guess I'll be back in a few."

They all hugged and said their goodbyes. With that, Fred grabbed her one duffle and walked out, heading for her parents and the safety of home. The guys watched her leave and felt what little joy there was sucked from the room as the doors closed behind her. They turned their gazes back to each other knowingly. Fred had been trying to keep them all happy for Hope's sake. But now, as she left to see her parents, the forced happiness was leaving with her. Each of them had known Michael wasn't as much a god as Hope. But they didn't expect him to die. To face the mortality of someone so strong…

No. It was not going to be a good day, after all.

* * *

Hope eyed the three spheres in her mind. She could visualize them floating around her. With her hands on her bent knees, she tried to make one of the spheres rise above the others. Her mind let her see them waiver as her concentration was tested. She fought with her more-human-than-usual mind for the silence it required. Her brow furrowed.

One of the spheres cracked, shattered, and fell the ground in pieces. Hope opened her eyes and the other two fell as well, bouncing heavily on the carpet. She sighed. But, it presented a new challenge. She eyed the shattered fragments of rose quartz and visualized them coming back together. She watched as several of the larger pieces merged. With hope for a complete recovery, she eyed the shattered bits all the more intensely. One by one they came together and coalesced seamlessly into the larger sphere.

It was whole again.

Hope smiled in accomplishment.

She took the sphere up in her hands and eyed it. Only a small chip was still visible. But, all in all, the rose quartz was useable again. She placed the sphere aside for the moment being and stood, willing to take a small break.

She parted the dense curtains and saw the sun. And, with everything that had happened, some joy was better than nothing.

Her eyes fell upon the jelly doughnut she'd selected from the box. Her stomach started to growl as the fact that she hadn't eaten in nearly four days dawned on her. She picked it up and licked some of the jelly that was forced out from the little hole. It tasted amazing on her dulled tongue. Taking a bite, she savored every taste; the sweetness of the bread and the tangy jelly inside. She bit down on a seed and smiled to herself as she heard it crack. She pondered the fact that the raspberry jelly used for the doughnuts wasn't really jelly at all; it was more of a gelatinous mixture with raspberry seeds in it that passed for jelly. But it still tasted good.

She peered back out the window and caught sight of a child playing ball in an alleyway basketball court. He was obviously too short to be of any real use in a game, but he tried to get that three-point shot nonetheless. She eyed him for a while and watched that ball be undershot over and over. But he kept trying.

The ball finally fell into the hoop. Elated with success, the boy jumped up and down and called out to an apartment window across the alley to his mom. Hope followed his gaze and saw the mother lovingly looking at her son. She'd seen the success and smiled because of it. The boy tried to mimic his toss again and, low and behold, the ball fell in again. His mother clapped for him.

Hope eyed the mother for a moment. She was past her prime but had the look of a tender grandmother. She eyed her son with all the interest that he was in a playoff game.

A pair of hands touched her shoulders and wrapped themselves around her. She knew who they belonged to, but she didn't dare look in case it would make him go away.

"How are you here?" she asked.

Michael, in all his glory, nestled his chin on her shoulder, "You tell me."

"You're dead."

"Does that really matter?"

Her brow furrowed, "I guess not."

"How are you holding up?"

"I feel helpless."

"You're not."

"I couldn't bring you back."

"It was a chance I took. We knew this might happen."

"How am I supposed to go on?"

"Like you always do. You're Hope. You learn it."

She went to face him, "I miss—" he was gone before she could finish.

She inhaled deeply and looked back out the window, a tear falling down her cheek.

* * *

Alone in the city that had once been so familiar to him, the half-breed sighed heavily. It was good to be back for sure, but he had to wonder what was going on with those he had left behind. The bus station was not the most alluring place to be during midday but, until he could get money, he had no way to hail a taxi. So, he was stuck waiting. Come nightfall, when it was cooler, he would walk to his destination. Until then, he waited in the air-conditioned lobby.

* * *

Angel walked around his room in boredom. The day was moving slowly. The guys downstairs were waiting for Fred to call and say she'd gotten to Texas without incident. But, for now, all he did was wait. He looked at trinkets he'd collected over the years. He hadn't been in his room for some time. With Hope being the way she was, he'd been traveling back and forth staying at her penthouse for a few hours each day and night.

He knew she was hurting. He could feel it. With the loss of her most dangerous powers, her ability to shield her minds from his was lost, too. Not that he minded, but it brought him as much pain as she had and more.

With a sudden and unfiltered conviction, he grabbed his duster and walked from his room. He had something he had to do. He walked down the stairs and to the second floor. He paused outside of Hope's room and considered knocking. He brought his hand up to do so, stopped, and thought better of it. He continued to the lobby and walked past Gunn and Wesley; they were lost in conversation and the paper.

"Angel?" Wesley asked.

"I'll be back later," he said, moving closer to them, "Keep an eye out, will you?" he said.

They knew what he meant, "Of course we will."

"Not a problem," Gunn confirmed.

"Thanks."

Angel started to walk off towards the basement door.

"If she asks for you?" Wesley prompted.

"Tell her I went out," Angel paused, shrugging.

With that, he was gone. The basement door closed behind him. Gunn and Wesley sighed, unsure of his sudden departure.

"He ain't left her before," Gunn noticed.

"He may just need to get out. He's been with her since we returned."

Gunn shook his head, "I just don't feel like we got everything."

"Meaning?

"Like we ain't getting' the whole story. There's something else. I know she's upset and all, but how do we know what really happened down there? They never told us."

"It was hard on her. She may wish to not talk about it."

"Still. I feel like there's something else."

* * *

Angel landed hard. The demon guardian Jaxk lumbered over to him and eyed him patiently, waiting for the vampire to get back up. Angel spat out the blood in his mouth.

"I just want to talk to the Record Keeper."

The demon eyed him and just stood there, waiting.

Angel got up and readied himself, knowing the fight would be coming. He ran at the apparent rockslide behind Jaxk and ducked as one blow came at his head. The other blow, however, caught him off guard. He was thrown back a fair distance, landing hard on the once-electrified subway rails. This time, Jaxk grabbed him at the waist and pinned him to the wall, squeezing hard enough to crack several of Angel's ribs.

"I'm trying to help her!" Angel tried to draw in the breath he needed to speak.

The demon just kept squeezing.

He forced another breath in, "Michael died! She needs help!" he rasped.

Jaxk lightened his grip up a bit and just eyed Angel. Those eyes were soulful and deep. They just stared right into Angel's eyes. After a moment, the demon let Angel go gently; Jaxk placed him on the ground and gave one gentle nudge towards the rockslide. Taking his graces, Angel walked over to and through the rocks.

He was plunged into the white purity of the immaterial place where the Record Keeper lived. He looked around and saw nothing.

"Record Keeper?" he called out, raising his voice slightly.

There was no answer. Angel turned around once fully to see if the creature was walking towards him. But there was still nothing.

"Record Keeper?" he called out again. After a pause, he started to speak, "Look, I know you don't like my kind. But I can't take the time to worry about that. Hope needs help. I've tried. But I can't get through to her. She needs help. Please. Help me help her," he begged, looking around for anything of the Record Keeper.

He exhaled sharply, "Look, I know you're here!" he called out.

"You would do well not to taunt me, vampire," the little voice said, followed by the body.

Angel eyed the Record Keeper, "About ti—why aren't you speaking weird?" he cut himself off.

The Record Keeper obviously smiled, standing a few paces away from Angel, "Such a small mind. No wonder the Young One pities your kind."

"Great, she pities us. But why are you speaking normally?"

"Still so ignorant. You see only what is in front of you. But, now, so do I."

"Okay, I still don't understand you."

"The Young One and I are connected. Her innate knowledge, her innate mind. I was behind it all."

Angel eyed the being, starting to see a picture.

The Record Keeper sat on a small rock that had appeared out of nowhere, "Now, she is near powerless. Our connection is severed. Completely and fully. I have lost my non-linear sight. I can only see what lies in front of me."

"Hope disconnected herself from the Old One. I thought she did from you, too."

The Record Keeper shook his head, "Nay. I am as much a part of her as you are. The connection we share with the Young One is a valuable gift. But now, she cannot control it."

"Her emotions are spilling over to me."

It nodded approvingly, "They are. And my knowledge is no longer at her disposal. She can't reach it…or me. It is a sad state of affairs, indeed."

"How can I help her?"

The smaller being eyed him sorrowfully, "Nothing can be done for her now, vampire. Only a return to the heavenly plane will grant her those gifts she's lost. And, as long as she denies the Old One, she will remain oblivious to all around her. There is nothing we creatures can do for her. Even I, with all my knowledge, am helpless."

Angel straightened defiantly, "I don't believe that."

"I know you don't."

Angel sighed heavily and crossed his arms over his chest, "There has to be something I can do for her. Something to help the pain."

"Only time, vampire. Only time," It said simply, standing and walking away, "We are done now. Leave."

"Thanks."

* * *

Hope opened her eyes. Everything was different when she did. It was still the Hyperion. This was still the world, but everything was different. It all felt and smelled different. She could feel the air cling to her like feathers. She looked around the room she was in. Was this still her room? She walked out, looking at the colors of energy that were floating around her.

She'd seen this world before. But not as a human. Not in a body. This was her world. Where she went when she needed to become a battery. The physical being was shed, leaving her in all her glory. But, now, she wasn't so glorious. Now, she was more human than before. Was that why she was seeing this? Because her body wanted to be shed?

She walked down the stairs, looking and feeling all of it. She didn't care where she was going, only what she was feeling. It felt like what she used to be. It felt like being a god. The floor vibrated under her feet and the air swamped around her, like a cozy blanket. A swirling mass of colors and feelings.

She touched one. It was solid. It was rich and tingly. She didn't know what this object was, but it was vibrating, calling. Energy and richness. She closed her eyes, feeling the god want to come back. She could feel her powers, just out of—

"Hope?"

Her eyes snapped open.

She took her hand from what she'd been touching. The counter wasn't as glorious as it had been before. Wesley walked up to her. So did Gunn. But she was still trying to feel what had been rudely taken away.

"Are you okay?"

Her brow furrowed, "It's all different."

"What is?"

"The world. It was energy and now it's all gone."

"Maybe you should go lie down."

"Orientation…the energy was there. Lying down. It was here."

"Hope, what are you talking about?"

She met Wesley's gaze, "Nothing. Just rambling."

"Do you want us to get Angel?"

She paused, her mind gone for a moment, "Angel."

"Yes. Do you want us to call him?"

"He's gone, too. It's all gone."

"Hope…"

"I'm sorry. I'll be upstairs."

She walked away.

Wesley and Gunn stared at her as she left.

* * *

Angel walked from the mystical space and shook his head free of the tingling feeling that overcame him. He looked ahead to see Jaxk standing there, immobile and uncaring about Angel's approach. In the back of his mind, Angel had to wonder how the demon received his orders and how he always knew what was going on. Dismissing the idea of thanking the creature, Angel just continued to walk. He looked down at his watch and noticed the time. It was getting close to sunset. He walked along the abandoned subway tunnel and hoped to get back to the hotel before Hope started to wonder where he was.

* * *

The streets were cooler now that the sun had set. He was glad he'd decided to wait until finding the Hyperion. He looked around in awe at the lights and people. It had been some time since he'd been in Los Angeles. Since he'd left, the sun had disappeared twice and come back. He was sure the team of Angel Investigations had brought it back both times. But, until he knew for sure, he wouldn't assume anything. For all he knew, the team at the Hyperion could have been long gone.

As he looked around the nightscape, he bumped into a young woman.

"Forgive me," he said offhandedly.

She only eyed him with deep brown eyes and continued on, undisturbed. He watched her walk away. She was strange, to be sure. But, in Los Angeles, that was nothing out of the ordinary. Her raven black hair curled just below her shoulders and her angular face seemed to split the crowd in front of her.

He dismissed her as another lost soul and continued on, hoping there would be some luck by morning.

* * *

Angel walked along the dark streets, his hands in his pockets. He thought about Hope and the Record Keeper. If things were as bad as the Record Keeper made it seem, Angel knew there was really nothing he could do for her. There was no mystical cure for her lack of power.

He heard a growl from his right. He paused and turned to see the alley that was bathed in darkness. Vampires were skulking down into the depths of a warehouse. Angel hung back for a moment and then followed, not wanting to tip off those he was ready to kill. The door to the warehouse closed and Angel walked around to a broken window. He looked into the deserted main floor and saw a dozen vampires.

He pulled back a few good paces and pulled out his cell phone. He eyed it, thought better of the idea, and then reached deep into his pocket for change. He ran around the corner to the nearest payphone and unhooked it, calling the Hyperion. It rang a few times before Wesley picked up.

"Angel Investigations," the familiar voice started.

"It's me. You and Gunn get the car and come on out to the warehouse on Forty-fifth and Broadway."

"What's there?"

"Big nest. Tell Gunn to bring his toys."

"What about Hope?" Wesley asked after a pause.

"Is she okay?"

"She came downstairs and rambled on for a few minutes, but nothing else."

"About energy?"

"Yes."

"She's been doing that a lot. She usually snaps out of it."

"I'm not sure if leaving her is prudent, given her wandering."

"She'll be fine for a half-hour. Come quick. I don't want the nest leaving the warehouse."

"We're on our way," Wesley said, then hung up the phone.

Angel hung up the phone and walked back to the warehouse. He wanted to keep an eye on the rather large nest. Hope had warned him there would be large gatherings of vampires now that the Pogroms were out of the running. Any vampires that had been turned for the army were more or less going to stick together; they'd been brainwashed for the Pogroms. They didn't know the true nature of the vampire.

There were no immediate victims so Angel let them be. He waited patiently for Gunn and Wesley to come with backup.

* * *

Hope looked around, feeling the cool air rush in from her open window. She just sat on her bed and looked out at the horizon. There was nothing to really see. The lights were closer than the mountains. But the mountains still seemed so close. She wanted nothing more than to see the way she once did, the way she'd been accustomed to. But now, she only saw the surface. She couldn't see the beauty lying beneath it. No. She couldn't do that anymore.

She inhaled deep, taking in scents her nose didn't really care about. There was smoke and smog, sea salts and maybe the hint of mountain desert.

Things were quiet.

She didn't like them quiet.

Quite gave her time to mourn. Quiet made the mourning unbearable.

With a quick turn, she stood and walked out from her room, tired of being there. She walked down the stairs that connected to the lobby and looked around. Wesley and Gunn were gone. So was Angel. It registered that they were gone, but it didn't seem to matter. She didn't need them to come with her…not where she was planning to go. She didn't think they wanted to be cooped up like animals, waiting for her to come down from her grief. No, it was good they got out. She knew they needed it. She walked out into the back garden and down the alleyway behind it. Night flowers bloomed from vines.

She walked slowly, her hands in her jean pockets. She kept her eyes ahead, seeing people as they rushed by to get home for the night. The sun had barely set. But already the nightlife of all varieties had come out. Humans, demons, the works. They all favored the night. It made it easier to hide, to hurt and to kill. She just kept walking past them all, following a path her heart knew all too well.

She looked at the clad iron gates that led to the cemetery behind the church. She eyed the cross for a moment as she walked past the building. She wound her way around the gravestones and kneeled in front of the one she knew.

She picked up a stone and placed it on top of Michael's headstone. She knew he'd been Jewish before becoming a demigod. He would respect her placing the stone there. She was kneeling above his body, looking at his headstone. Like all mortals placed here, he was now decaying and becoming worm food.

Hope felt a tear drop to her bent knee. She didn't even know she'd been crying. She turned around and sat down, her back against the headstone. She just looked out at the flat bit of churchyard that held the graves. She'd picked this one for the funeral. She liked the smallness of it. And it gave Michael the recognition he deserved. She smiled slightly.

"Remember Buffalo?" she asked.

There was only silence to answer her.

"You were so intent on proving that damn point of yours. What was it, again? I've forgotten. I know what you did, but I can't remember why."

"I wanted you to part the waters," his voice responded.

She smiled, undisturbed by her imagination's wonderful recreation of him, "Oh. That."

"You did it, though. Remember the looks on the faces of those damn tour guides?" he chuckled.

"Priceless."

"You were so young and so naïve."

She looked at him finally. He was sitting next to her, "You helped me so much."

"I wish I could help you now."

"I'll get used to it, I guess."

"Not having all that? Will you? What's a god without powers?"

She cocked an eyebrow, "Still trying to figure that one out," she looked back at the horizon, at oblivion.

"If you had saved me, the world would have paid the price. You learned your lesson at Jerusalem. The greater good. That's all that matters in the end."

"But it wasn't supposed to be _your_ end. It should've been mine."

He took her chin in his hand and made her look at him, "No. Don't say that. You have a wonderful place here. You and Angel are happy. You deserve this life."

"But things will keep coming," she sighed, looking back at oblivion, "And I don't think I'll make it. I'm weak."

"You are still strong. You have the strength this world needs. You know that."

"I don't feel that way."

"It'll take time," he promised her.

"I know."

"You should be getting out, fighting those demons, saving those victims."

"I'm afraid to fight, Michael," she admitted.

"Because you feel weak?"

"I'm a liability to Angel and the gang. Emotionally, physically. They can't be looking after me if I get in a fight."

"You can look after yourself."

She looked at him, "Can I?"

He looked ahead, "Now's a good time to try!" he disappeared as Hope was distracted by the vampire lifting her from the ground.

The demon snarled at her, his fangs in her face and glinting in the moonlight. Hope pulled at his fingers, trying to get them away from her throat. The vampire just smiled, keeping her feet above the ground.

"Where's your invisible friend now?" he asked harshly.

"Help…" she squeaked out, still struggling.

* * *

Gunn threw his axe hard and watched as it sliced the head from the shoulders of a vampire. Wesley shot him a grateful look and picked up his fallen stake, running towards the last of the vampires. Gunn was blind sighted and fell to the ground, hitting the piles of dust that were accumulating. As he braced himself for the attack he thought was coming, he saw the vampire turn to dust.

Angel helped him up and looked at the last vampire as Wesley staked it. He sighed. The vampires had given them all a workout. He looked around to see if anything caught his attention, then picked up his fallen sword.

"Cast offs from the Pogroms, I suppose," Wesley said, walking over to them.

"Big nest. They've been here for a while," Gunn eyed the place.

"Yeah. They're probably from Hr-ann-ouk. I doubt they'd come here from Denver," Angel agreed. He looked around again, taking a demonic whiff of the air, "No blood here, though. I don't think they've killed much."

"Good for them," Gunn quipped.

"I suggest we get back to the hotel should Hope need us," Wesley spoke up.

Angel nodded and led the way back to his car. He started the engine and pulled from the alley into the street.

* * *

The vampire eyed the black convertible as it pulled away from her. She had watched Angel come and go, taking the stake to his own kind. She thought malevolent thoughts and looked at the warehouse. He would not come back now that it had been cleared. She smiled. He'd done her a favor. Now she could hide and wait, taking her time to strike.

* * *

Angel pulled up to the Hyperion and parked the car. He picked up the weapons that had been thrown in the backseat next to Gunn and helped carry them in. He entered the Hyperion and, without much thought, let them down in front of the weapons' cabinet. He sighed.

"I'm going to check on Hope."

He trudged up the stairs tiredly. He wasn't exhausted. He was just tired. And the fact that Hope would more or less have nightmares tonight made the prospect of going to sleep not so golden. He knocked on her door once to no answer. He opened it and saw that she wasn't in clear sight. He looked around the wall and into the bathroom, but she wasn't there either. The window was open but he knew she always left it that way.

Thousands of possibilities ran into his mind. None of them he liked. He ran from the room and back down the stairs. Wesley and Gunn stood in alarm.

"Angel?" Gunn asked.

"Hope's gone."

"What?" Wesley asked.

"Where would she run off to?"

"I don't know. But I have to find her," Angel reached for the broadsword he'd put down only a moment ago.

"Angel, I'm sure she can take care of herself," Wesley assured him.

Angel bit his tongue from saying the truth. He thought quickly, "She's grieving, Wesley. I'm afraid of what she might do."

"You think she would hurt herself?" Gunn asked, fearful of the possibility.

Angel sighed, "I don't know. But I don't want to find out."

"She can't have gotten far. We were only gone for twenty minutes."

"Unless she went poof," Gunn reminded him.

Angel bit his tongue again from saying that she couldn't go "poof". He only strode towards the doors, "I'll take the rooftops. You two ride around. See if you find her."

Wesley and Gunn nodded. They each grabbed the keys to their cars and their cell phones. They followed Angel out the doors and watched in jaded awe as he scaled the side of the next building over.

* * *

The breeze made the streets even cooler. The traveler sighed, wishing he remembered the address of the Hyperion. If he had that, he knew he could ask for directions. But, alas, he didn't know the numbers. So, he walked, hoping to find something that looked familiar so he could get his bearings.

He heard a stifled cry for help.

He turned to his side and listened, hoping to catch another sound of it. There was only a whimper, but it was a sound he could not ignore. He ran towards the sound and found himself at the edge of a graveyard. He threw himself over the tall wrought iron fence and found his target. He saw the young woman above the ground. Her captor held her by the throat. The traveler knew the face the demon wore and quickly launched into battle. He threw himself at the demon and knocked it over.

The woman fell and started to cough.

The traveler got to his feet quickly and waited for the vampire to rise as well. The demon snarled at him. The demon lunged once and missed. The traveler had sidestepped. The demon lunged again and this time the traveler threw him with his own momentum.

"Here!" the woman cried out, throwing him a shaft of wood.

The traveler caught it and threw his hand forward. The wood hit the dead heart of the creature and it turned to dust. The traveler turned to see the woman standing and eying him unsurely. She sighed, rubbing her sore neck.

"Thank you."

"I am happy to help. Are you injured?"

She shook her head, "Nothing serious."

"Do you need escorting to your home?"

Her face was cold and still appreciative, "I'd appreciate that."

"What is your name?"

"Hope," she answered, starting to walk towards the gate on the other side of the churchyard, "And you?"

"I am Groosalugg."

Hope stopped and eyed him, "The Brave and Undefeated. Nice to meet you," she said monotonously.

Groo eyed her unsurely, "You are aware of my language?"

"I just didn't recognize you. What with the shorter hair and all."

"Have I met you?"

She started to walk again, "No. You've never seen me. Don't feel bad. I'm…well, I guess I'm a god."

"A goddess? And you have seen my life?"

"Only bits and pieces, really."

"Tell me then, can you guide me to my friends?"

"The guys at the Hyperion? That's where I stay."

"How fortunate that I have come upon you then, goddess."

Hope eyed him tiredly, "Just Hope, if you please."

"My apologies. Forgive my insolence."

She sighed heavily, "Nothing to forgive."

Groosalugg eyed her. She was, indeed, upset about something. But he dared not ask. In her simple display of knowledge, he trusted her. She was someone of power. He didn't want her to become sad or mad at him. So, he walked along in silence as she led the way back to the Hyperion hotel and their mutual friends.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Angel walked in just as the first rays of sunshine crept up along the path to the Hyperion hotel. He and the others had spent the remainder of the night looking for Hope. After three or four hours, he called them and told them to go home. Amid their protest, they agreed. He, on the other hand, continued to search until it became dangerous to do so. As he got down the stairs to escape the sun, he saw Hope sitting there at the counter, asleep. She was hunched over and had one of his dusters draped over her for a blanket.

At first, he felt angry that she hadn't called him to tell him she was all right. But, as he assumed, she wanted them to stay out and have fun. She couldn't have known he'd been looking for her all night, afraid of the possibilities. It wasn't in her capacity to know his worry that well. So, she fell asleep waiting for him to come home.

He felt the presence of someone in the lobby behind him. With a quick turn, he pointed his broadsword at the intruder.

Groosalugg held up his hands in assurance of peace. Angel eyed him and put his sword down with a tired smile.

"Groo?" he whispered.

"It is good to see you again, hero," Groo smiled back, also whispering.

"When did you get in?"

"Yesterday. I met Hope last night. She was kind enough to show me back to the Hyperion. She wished to wait up for you and the others."

"I haven't seen you in a while," Angel said unsurely, his mind racing about Cordelia.

"Likewise, my friend."

"Did you get to sleep at all?"

"No. I stayed awake so she would be looked out for," Groo said proudly, eyeing Hope over Angel's shoulder.

"I appreciate that. I was out looking for her," Angel admitted, "I thought something was wrong."

"It was, Angel. I found her in the clutches of a vampire. She was quite shaken."

Angel sighed, "Where did you find her?"

"A place of resting."

Angel knew the one and nodded, "One of her friends it buried there," he explained. He looked at Hope over his shoulder for a moment, then turned back to Groo, "Let me get her to a bed. Then we can all go to sleep," he said, his own eyelids drooping as Groo's did.

Groosalugg nodded and sat back down against a column. Angel walked over to Hope and put his broadsword down on the counter silently. He wrapped his arms around Hope's light figure and let her rest in his arms like a child. She stirred only a little and nuzzled up against the familiar and cool skin.

He walked her up to her room and laid her down, happy she'd slept at all. He pulled the covers over her body and the duster and gave her a kiss on her forehead. Knowing that Groo would need a place to sleep, he walked back downstairs and led the Pylean up to another room before claiming his own and surrendering to sleep.

* * *

Hope woke up and looked around for a moment. She was in a bed. Her bed. Knowing that Groosalugg didn't know what room she lived in, she assumed Angel had come back. She didn't know why the others left or why they stayed out all night, but she was right to think that Angel would come back eventually.

She looked at the clock on her nightstand and sighed. It was past breakfast and the office was about to open. She slid out from under the duster and the blankets and walked over to the closet. She pulled out new clothes and put them on. As she pulled on her shirt, she looked out the window. It had stayed open all night and was now letting in shafts of warm sun. She stepped into them and closed her eyes peacefully. The tingle on her skin was welcomed and she wrapped her arms in front of her chest.

"Hope," Angel asked quietly.

She turned her head to the side in acknowledgement.

"Are you all right?" he asked, coming closer but out of reach from the sun.

"As well as I can be."

"I was worried about you last night. I came back and you were gone. The guys and I spent all night looking for you," he said, looking beyond her at the sunlit horizon.

She closed the blinds absentmindedly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you," she said as she turned to face him.

"Groo told me you got in a fight at the graveyard."

She sat on the edge of her bed, "I was ambushed. Groo saved me."

"Why didn't you wait for me to get back before going out there?" Angel sat down next to her.

"I know you don't like going there."

"I would've if you asked me to. You know that."

"I'm sorry you were worried about me."

He sighed at her casual change of the subject. He put a hand behind her back and around her waist "Hey, I'm not mad. I just don't want you getting hurt. With everything going on…" he trailed off, unsure what to say.

"I'm the weakest link."

"No. No, you're not."

She faced him stoically; "The vampire had me by the throat, Angel. I couldn't defend myself. If Groo hadn't been there, I could have died."

"You would've done something. I know you. You're a survivor, Hope."

She stood and walked a pace away, "But I'm not strong anymore."

Angel knew he couldn't really argue that point. He just eyed her as she stood there insecurely. After his conversation with the Record Keeper, he knew she wasn't aggrandizing her situation. She was as weak as he was, if not weaker. And, if the lack of physical strength wasn't enough, she had no extreme powers to defend herself with.

All in all, she was defenseless.

* * *

Gunn let the box of doughnuts flop onto the counter. Angel's broadsword from the night before was there still. He picked it up and placed it back in the weapons' cabinet. He looked around and sighed. Wesley hadn't come in yet. Gunn walked behind the counter and put the pot of coffee together and turned the machine on.

He turned to the sound of footsteps. He looked at the stairs and saw Angel and Hope walking into the atrium. He sighed in relief.

"Good morning, sunshine," he smiled at Hope.

She only eyed him and made no attempt at pleasantries. His brow furrowed as he tried to think of something else to say.

"Hey. I got ya some doughnuts. Half of 'em are raspberry jelly filled."

She sat at the counter and nodded, "Thank you, Charles."

He smiled at her, "She speaks."

Angel cocked an eyebrow at his remark and went for the fridge. He pulled out a container of blood and put the lid on the desk with the coffee pot. As he turned to drink it at the counter, he noticed Hope eyeing it intently. He tried to catch her intense stare. But she was lost in her mind.

"Hope?" he asked.

She snapped her eyes to look at his.

"What's wrong?" he put the blood aside.

She spared another glance at the container and just shook her head, "Nothing."

In some small part of her brain that was once so active, she could feel a tingle. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. It was a warning. But she didn't know what about. But she knew the blood had triggered it. She sighed and dismissed it as a false alarm.

"So, where were you last night, gal?"

"The graveyard."

Gunn's jovial attitude softened, "Oh."

"I met Groosalugg," she added, her eyes still drifting back to the container as Angel lifted it to his lips.

Gunn's head jerked back in shock, "You met Groo? The hulky guy from Pylea?"

"Yeah. He happened by her. He's asleep on the second floor," Angel said, keeping his voice neutral.

"Has anyone told him about Cordelia?"

Angel and Hope shared a glance. Angel sighed, "No."

"I'll tell him when he wakes up."

"You don't have to," Angel spoke up, "It should be me."

"Okay."

"Good morning, Hope. Nice to see you decided to come back," Wesley said softly, bringing in the morning paper.

"She was at the graveyard."

Wesley laid the paper out for them all to see, "I think this might be of some interest."

Gunn and Angel leaned in. Hope remained away from the commotion.

" 'Nine Local Shops Robbed, No Suspects',"Gunn read aloud.

"Does it say what was stolen?" Angel asked.

Wesley shook his head, "No. I was thinking we could split up and talk to the shopkeepers. I doubt the robbery was a random thing."

Angel nodded, grateful to have a possible case.

Hope reeled back as sights and sounds reached her mind; she ungracefully fell to the floor in pure and terrified hysteria.

* * *

She looked around in pure confusion. She saw hordes of demons running around her, through her, and past her. They were not demons of this world, but of another. Demons of those who came before man. She shuddered as the demons ran through her, screaming in war-driven fury towards a single source. She looked to follow the stream of bodies and saw she was in an alleyway. In the distance, at the back of it, was Angel. She saw around him Gunn, William and something with the appearance of Fred. She couldn't find Wesley. She watched Angel raise his sword after saying something to the others. He took a swipe at the first demon that attacked him. The others followed suite and fended off the demons.

The being in Fred's form was strong and threw several of her attackers back with a single blow. The rain that had failed to be noticed before now drenched Hope as she became immersed in the battle. Gunn was wounded and faltered. William tried to come to his aide but failed. Gunn was the first to fall to the wet ground in defeat.

Hope wanted to stop things. She wanted to save him. But she was as powerless in this vision as she was in reality. She watched Angel take out his enemies one by one, his face set in grim acceptance and determination. One managed to grab him by his shoulders from behind and threw him to the ground. Hope watched helplessly as Angel tried to defend himself. He threw up his own sword in defense and was able to ward off the blow aimed at his vulnerable neck. He kicked the attacker back and let the Fred-like being take care of it. After disposing of the demon and throwing the lifeless body at the oncoming hordes, she helped Angel up before moving onto her next victim. Angel watched her for a moment in seemed confusion and then continued to fight.

Behind the two of them, William moved quickly to free himself of the claws of his attackers. He threw one back towards where Hope stood and cut the head from another. He blocked a blow aimed at his own neck but missed one aimed at his gut. The large spear ran him through and he fell to his knees in pain. He tried to block another blow but his sword was wrenched from his grasp and thrown aside by force. He blocked the succeeding blow with his forearm and Hope winced as she watched the blade cut through the leather and slice the flesh and bone behind it.

The woman moved quickly and threw her fist up into the demon that had nearly taken William's arm. The demon flew backwards. Hope knew that she was something otherworldly. Her strength alone was enough for the goddess to be sure of that.

Off to the other side, Angel lost his sword.

William was struck down again.

The female was tossed aside by a large and hefty demon.

Angel fell to his knees as a sword was lodged halfway through his torso from the side.

William's eyes went wide as the sword came at him again.

The being crumpled to the ground in pain.

Thunder and lightning hit close by, blinding Hope.

* * *

Angel jerked as Hope gasped, his hands on her face, trying to bring her around. She looked around in pure confusion. She registered his face and grabbed at his hands. She tried to slow her breathing. He could hear her heart pounding unbearably fast.

"Hope? Can you hear me?" he asked, keeping his hands on the side of her face.

She nodded and tried to sit up. The others around Angel backed a way a bit. Groo had heard the commotion and had come down. Lorne had walked in not too long after. Angel guided her to a seat on the circular couch. She continued to breath deep and focus on the scene she'd been forced to endure a moment before.

"Get her some water," he said to no one in particular.

He didn't know who scampered off to do so. Hope kept her gaze focused inwards, trying to make sense of what she had seen. With a trembling hand, she took the cup of water offered her. Lorne's hand wrapped around her own to steady the glass.

"There you go. Calm down," he cooed.

After a moment, the four men backed away to give her more room. She looked at Angel's face and tried to keep herself composed.

"What did you see?" he asked

She looked at him with fearful features. She stared into his face, "Armageddon."

* * *

Hope stared ahead at nothing, trying to keep her wits about her, "It wasn't like any vision I've had before. I was in this one. I was a part of it. I could feel the rain…the screams hurt my ears…"she trailed off.

"What makes you think Armageddon?" Wesley asked.

"I could feel it. I could feel the stopped cogs of the clock."

"I do not understand," Groosalugg admitted.

"The cogs of reality stopped. For just a moment, but they stopped. Came to a grinding halt. The world shuddered. Demons came forth. There was so much pain. I could feel it all," she started to whimper, bringing her hands to her face in saddened remembrance.

Angel ran a hand down her back, "Shh. That's enough," he looked to the others, "Guys, could you?" he asked vaguely.

They nodded and walked from the room. Angel stayed on his haunches in front of her and looked up into her face pleadingly.

"I need you to rest."

"I'm scared, Angel."

He ran his fingers through her hair, "I know. But whatever it is, we'll deal with it."

"No, I mean I'm scared for all of you. I watched you all die. You, Gunn, William…you all died. Right in front of me."

Angel's brow furrowed, "William? _Spike_? Why was _he_ there?"

She shook her head, "I don't know. And I don't know what worries me more: the fact that I saw what I saw; or the fact that I wasn't seeing myself there."

"No. You know I would _never_ let anything happen to you. You are not going to die!" he raised his voice slightly, taking her hands in his.

"We can't know that. Even I can't know now."

"I believe in it. That's all I need," he leaned up and kissed her gently. They parted and he looked into her eyes, "Hey. Get some rest. Lorne and Groo will stay here with you while we go check out the stores," he paused, "Do you want me to stay?"

She shook her head, "No. Go do your job," she managed to seem convincingly okay.

He kissed her again, "I'll be back later to check on you."

With that last sentiment, he walked out of her room and out of sight. Hope curled up under the covers, her fear bubbling under her skin.

* * *

Angel pulled on his duster and held the names of the herbalist stores he was checking on. Gunn and Wesley were hitting the others as a team in case anything came up. As he started to leave, he stopped in front of the counter and the two remaining behind.

"Check in on her every once in a while."

"Will do, jefe," Lorne said simply.

"Nothing shall harm her," Groo added enthusiastically.

Angel almost smiled at that and then left for the sewers.

Lorne sighed as the vampire departed and put on a new pot of hot water from the coffee maker. He looked to Groosalugg and smiled.

"So, how are you liking L.A. since you got back?"

Groo shrugged, "I am concerned."

"I wouldn't worry about Hope. She's tougher than she looks right—"

"I do not mean about the goddess. I mean abut Cordelia. I have not seen her since I was lead here last night," he gently cut Lorne off.

Lorne's face blanched ever so slightly and he licked his lips, "You mean…"

"She's sick, Groosalugg," Hope said, coming down the stairs.

They both turned to face her. Her pallid face was dewy with sweat and almost-dried tears. Groo took a step closer to her as she stayed in the sunlight shafts.

"Sick?"

"She's at the hospital," Hope answered.

"Why? What has happened to her?" Groo asked, his usually calm façade gone in an instant.

"A demon used her…and now she's asleep. We can't wake her up," she watched his face sadden all the more as she told him the awful truth.

"Lead me to this demon!" he shouted angrily.

"It's dead, Groosalugg. Con—Angel killed it."

"I must see her."

"It's a little more complicated than that, Groo," Lorne interjected.

"I'll take you."

"But you are ill and weak," Groo observed.

Hope straightened, "I am not weak," she said with a certain fevered conviction.

"I am sorry. But you seem ill."

"I had a vision. That's all," Hope argued.

"You were in it for almost two hours," Lorne added incredulously.

Hope eyed him, "What?"

"Sweetie pie, you were in that vision for almost two hours. That's nothing small in anyone's book."

With her arms crossed over her chest, she eyed Groo, "I can take you to see her if you'd like," she offered.

"But Angel—"

"Is off doing his job. This is mine," she stated harshly, cutting the Pylean off. She looked to Lorne, "If Angel comes back before we do, tell him to meet us at the hospital," she added.

Lorne nodded, "Count on it, pumpkin."

With that, Hope led Groosalugg out of the lobby and into the bright sunlight. She looked around for a moment before realizing just how bright the day had become. It seemed wrong to be so sad at such a beautiful time of the year.

* * *

Angel sniffed around the demolished herbalist shop. This one he supposed, like the last three, was ripped apart for the sheer fun of it. The owners had given the stock up before the vampires went insane and started to tear the place apart. The others had each an ingredient stolen from their cabinets. In each case, the store was well known for carrying that particular ingredient. Alone, the herbs and pastes might not be threatening. But Angel was worried about what could happen if the ingredients were combined. The owner came out and smiled at him, her Asian face full of tried joy.

"How can I help you today, young man?"

He smiled at her politeness, "Couldn't help but notice your store is…a wreck."

"Yes. Petulant vampire thief," the woman sighed.

Angel's brow rose, "Vampire?"

"Yes. I know what you are, young man. I also know you mean me no harm. So, why have you come? To ask me questions?"

Although momentarily taken aback, he nodded, "I am, actually. I wanted to know what was stolen."

"Shanata root."

"How much was taken?"

The woman sighed with a pained smile, "All of it. The demon wanted all of it."

"What did he look like? Besides the brow," Angel added, pointing his finger at his forehead.

"Brown hair, short and chubby. If he were human, he wouldn't be more than fifteen. Poor child. But, the soul is at rest now. I shall not mourn it," she continued to keep herself pleasant, "Can I help you with anything else?"

"No, thank you. I'm sorry about your shop."

She smiled wider, "Do not feel so. It was not you who did this. You are not like them," she assured him.

He smiled back at her, "Thank you. Have a nice day."

She nodded, "And the same to you, young man."

* * *

Hope drove her Element carefully. She made her way towards the hospital where Cordelia was being kept until she woke up—if she ever woke up. She tried to remain optimistic. She had to hope the young woman would regain consciousness. But, there was no guarantee either way.

Groosalugg sat in the passenger's seat quietly, eyeing the passing streets and pedestrians. He seemed excited to be in her car. She had to smile inwardly at his enthusiasm for being back in Los Angeles. He was so naive and young. In many ways, she had been like him once. She remembered being young and a goddess. Having the whole world be new even though she had lived for so long. She remembered the first time she'd been able to teleport herself. Her ecstatic mother had made her a cake.

She almost missed the entrance to the hospital. She pulled in sharply and pulled into the nearest parking spot she could find.

"This is it," she said simply, unlocking the doors and walking out into the warm day.

"I appreciate your generous offer to take me to see her," Groo said as they entered the main lobby.

"You have the right to," Hope answered back as the elevator doors opened for the two of them.

The bell rang as the doors closed and the elevator pulled them up to the tenth floor. They rang once more as the doors started to open. Hope led Groosalugg down the sterile halls full of doctors and nurses to the one room where Cordelia lay. She had a roommate. Hope pulled the curtain that separated the two halves of the room closed so Groo could have his privacy. Hope watched his face fall as he laid sight on her. She was pallid. He nearly fell into the seat next to her bed.

"She is still so beautiful," he said, stroking her dewy cheek.

"I'll leave you alone with her. I'll be outside when you want to go," Hope said, leaving silently and passing the other comatose patient as she walked out.

She closed the door partially and sat outside it just watching the people pass by. She leaned back into the wall and sighed heavily. Even with her diminished powers, the anguish of the hospital was still getting to her. She wouldn't rush Groo. Nor would she complain aloud. But it irked her that she was still so sensitive to the negative emotions that came pouring from the rooms nearby. She could feel the pounding in her temples. But, for Groosalugg, she would tough it out. She would.

* * *

Charles Gunn and Wesley Wyndam-Pryce walked up to the second-to-last herbalist store on their half of the list. The door was blocked with yellow police tape. Wesley sighed, seeing the chalk outline of the body of the owner.

"So, we break the ticker tape?"

"I suppose so."

They gingerly walked into the storefront and stepped around the chalk outline. The entirety of the store was trashed and demolished. The glass display windows were broken in and shards of glass lay on the floors.

"Take a look around. See if we can't figure out what was taken," Wesley instructed, moving behind the counter to see the labeled jars.

Gunn appraised the shelves and saw several bottles of oil and musk were broken. They did lend a wonderful smell to the place, however.

"So, what do you think did this?" Gunn asked, opening one opaque jar to take a look inside.

"From the other store clerk accounts, I would say vampires," Wesley said, taking an inventory book from underneath the counter.

Gunn took a whiff of the contents and quickly jerked his head back. He recapped the jar and moved on to see what else there was, "You think they just wanted some potpourri?" he asked sarcastically.

"The other stores were targeted for a specific ingredient. I doubt this was just a random play event for them."

"You think they're trying to raise something?"

"Impossible to say without the other ingredients."

"This clerk was the only one that was killed."

"Sadly so. Perhaps he or she was trying to protect something."

"Or maybe the vamps just got hungry."

Wesley scanned the inventory book for new deliveries and saw nothing that was in any great quantity. He stuffed the book into his bag and sighed, "I doubt we'll get anything from here without an eyewitness to tell us what was taken."

"So, onto the last store, huh?" Gunn started to walk out of the mess.

"Onward we go."

Gunn paused and took another whiff of the air, "You smell that?"

Wesley stopped and inhaled, "The herbs lend a distinct smell."

"No, I smell smoke. Something's smoking," Gunn looked around, trying to find the source. Wesley picked up on the smoky smell and followed it to a back room behind some faux jade bead curtains. Gunn was right behind him.

Wesley's face fell.

"We need to book," Gunn said hastily, taking Wesley's sleeve and pulling.

They ran from the back room and got out to the sidewalk just as the flames hit the oil on the floor and exploded. Flames roared from the building and forced the entire structure to explode outwards, sending shards of glass, metal and concrete at the two men.

They ducked and covered.

The heat and flames pulled back and stayed on the building. Gunn coughed from the sudden inhale of smoke, "There goes the crime scene."

"Someone set that fire," Wesley assumed, standing and walking briskly from the area before officials came to extinguish the fire.

"How do ya figure?"

"It wasn't there when we entered."

"You saying someone tried to kill us?"

Wesley nodded, getting into the passenger's side of Gunn's truck, "We should get to the last shop before anything else happens to draw attention to ourselves."

"It's just a few blocks away," Gunn said, starting up the engine.

As he did, they both watched another building explode up the street. They just sat there, knowing that it was the last herbalist shop in their list.

"Call Angel," Wesley said simply.

* * *

Angel walked through the sewers to get to the next herbalist shop on his way. He paused and sniffed the air, smelling carbon monoxide. Imperceptible as it was to humans, he could smell even the faintest whiff of it. And the deadly gas was wafting down into the sewers from the basement of the next store.

He cell phone rang and he jumped.

"Hello?"

"Man, you have to get away from the shops," Gunn's concerned voice came through on the line.

"What? Why?"

"Someone's blowin' 'em up," he said, "The one we checked out just made like Mount Saint Helen's. The one down the street did a copy-cat."

"Covering up the tracks?" Angel asked.

"Looks like it."

"All right, I'll see what I can get before the building blows," Angel said quickly, wanting to get enough information.

"Don't risk it, man. You be turned into a crispy critter," Gunn yelled at him.

"I'll be fine. I'll meet—"

The building above him exploded and sent flames, heat and shrapnel his way.

"Angel!" Gunn asked, the explosion audible on the other end.

Angel recovered and picked up the cell phone, "I'm fine. I'll meet you back at the hotel."

Without another word, he hung up the phone and cursed in pain. A steel pipe that had blown away from the sewer wall impaled one of his legs. Another section was in his chest. He reached down and yanked. The steel pipes came out sluggishly and some of his blood spattered onto the wall.

He just lay there for a moment to let the pain die away. It didn't.

* * *

Hope looked up as she felt a shiver run down her back. She sighed and rolled her shoulders to get rid of it. As she looked around, she saw Angel down the hall. She eyed him for a moment, expecting him to walk closer to her. But he didn't. He just stared at her longingly. Her brow furrowed and she stood from her chair. She looked at the clock and saw that almost an hour had passed her by as she sat there waiting for Groosalugg.

She walked down the hall to follow Angel. As she got closer, he turned and walked away. His long duster flowed behind him and she continued to follow. She looked behind her once to see the door where Cordelia's room was. She didn't know why she looked back, but she did. When she looked forward again, she saw an explosion. She reflexively covered her face as heat soared her way. But no one else was reacting. She ran towards the explosion and saw Angel. He was on the ground, looking up the ceiling with gaping holes in his leg and chest. She reached down to touch him and, in that moment, he was gone.

She stood and looked around. Several nurses were eyeing her. She straightened her shirt out in mild embarrassment and walked back towards Groosalugg and Cordelia. She didn't trust her vision. It wasn't a vision she was used to having. And her mind didn't trigger her automatic response to any pain Angel might be having. She knew it would if something went wrong. But still, there was a feeling in her gut that something beyond her knowledge had happened.

She walked over to a payphone and searched her pockets for change. She found the quarters in her jeans and quickly dialed Angel's cell phone.

It didn't ring, just sent her to the voicemail. The automated message said the client wasn't available. She knew he would be taking the sewers. He might not get reception down there. Or, she sighed, knowing him, he might have just turned it off.

She hung up the phone and heard the quarters drop into the deposit absentmindedly. Torn between her concern for Angel and her promise to Groo, she just stood there for a moment.

An elderly man walked up to her and tapped her gently on her shoulder.

"Excuse me, ma'am. But I need to make a call," he said, his eyes misty.

She handed him the phone and eyed him, "I'm sorry for your loss," she said vaguely.

He eyed her unsurely and just dismissed it as a good guess. Hope walked away and into Cordelia's room. She pulled the curtain back to see Groo. He turned to face her.

"Hope?" he asked as she stared blankly ahead.

"I think something's wrong."

"What?"

"I think something's wrong with Angel."

"We must go to him."

"Don't you want to stay here?"

Groo eyed Cordy for a moment, "She bids me to go and help," he smiled back at Hope.

Hope nodded and walked briskly from the room.

* * *

Angel could feel his leg start to mend itself. But he could also feel his mind wash in and out of vertigo from the trauma. He couldn't bring himself to move and only lay there on the sewer floor. He took a deep breath to keep himself awake.

"Angel!" Hope yelled out.

He sighed in relief. Hope skidded to a halt beside him and took his upper body onto her lap. Groo was next to her, carrying her first aid kit from her car.

She made a disgusted face as his blood seeped onto her lap. Groo handed her the kit and looked around to see if there was any further danger.

"Can't say how glad I am to see you," Angel coughed out blood.

Hope made a frustrated face and shook her hand, trying to shake power into it. She placed her hand on his chest and tried to concentrate. He could feel his muscles and organs try to repair themselves with her help, but it just wasn't happening. She removed her hand and shook it again, her face full of anguish for not being able to help him.

"Hope, it's okay," he assured her, trying to seem unflustered.

She eyed him and he watched her eyes water up. Her own defenselessness came back to the surface and she tried to keep from crying.

"I'll heal on my own."

Her lips were pressed together to keep her tears from flowing freely. She sniffled once and looked up to Groosalugg, "Help me get him to the car."

They stood him up gently and he braced his arms over Hope and Groo's shoulders, dragging his limp leg along while blood continued to flow from his wounds.

* * *

"We need some help here!" Hope yelled out, knowing at least Lorne would still be in the lobby.

To her relief, Gunn, Wesley and Lorne came into view as she and Groosalugg helped Angel in from the basement door. They took the burden from Hope and led Angel to the loveseat in the middle of the lobby. He groaned as they let him down; his soft flesh cracked with the pressure.

"Water, gauze, thread, needle, hydrogen peroxide," Hope demanded, unbuttoning Angel's shirt as Gunn and Lorne jogged away to get her list.

She kept her eyes trained on Angel as she continued to unbutton his shirt from memory. He was trying to hide his pain. She knew the hot pipes had burned his interior muscle and organs. Taking a pocketknife from her pocket, she tore at his pant leg to get it away from the wound. He winced in pain as some of his flesh was disturbed.

Gunn and Lorne came back with their arms full and let the ingredients plop next to Hope as she stayed hunched down by Angel.

"What happened down there?" she asked, already knowing some of the story.

"The stores started to explode," Gunn filled in for her.

"You were below it when it happened?" she looked directly at Angel.

"Yeah. I thought I could take a look before it reached countdown," he answered through clenched teeth.

Hope started to stitch up the chest wound, "You two are okay?" she asked, not looking over her shoulder at Gunn and Wesley.

"We got out in time," Wesley assured her.

Hope sighed for that small blessing and finished off the last stitch for Angel's chest. Moving down to his leg, she handed the gauze to Lorne, "Wrap it up," she ordered.

Lorne, accustomed as he was to patch-work, took the gauze and wrapped it around Angel's chest several times. He waited till Hope was done with the leg and then moved to work on that wound.

Hope stood tiredly and sighed, "That's as good as you'll get."

He sat up slightly, "I'll be fine."

"You went out to get him?" Wesley asked.

"I took Groosalugg to see Cordelia," Hope answered softly.

They all stayed silent for a moment.

"Hope had a vision of Angel. We went to help him," Groo said, trying to make Hope out to be more a hero than she felt. She just stayed by Angel's side quietly, not saying anything to counter Groosalugg's story.

* * *

Hope tilted the container of blood slightly so Angel could sip from it. He eyed her as he swallowed. She took a sip herself; the fact that it was pig's blood was beyond her mind at the moment. She licked her lips and looked at him, bringing it back to his lips.

_You don't have to feed me, you know_, he thought to her.

Somewhat surprised at his words, she looked down at his wounds and away from his eyes, _It's the least I can do. About _all_ I can do_.

_Stop beating yourself up about this._

_I can't heal anymore, Angel. It's a tad bit unsettling_.

_I'll heal on my own. I'll be fine by tomorrow night_, he assured her.

_But what if it isn't _you_ next time? What if it's Wesley or Charles or Fred? What then?_ she asked with obvious concern in her voice and etched on her face.

_Then we get them to a hospital._

Hope sighed and took another sip from the container before capping it, _I can't accept that, Angel. I can't stand being this helpless!_

Angel eyed her for a moment and she tried to fight back tears. He thought of another subject and hoped it would keep her away from her own misery, _How did Groo take seeing Cordy?_

_Fine, I guess. He was upset. But he knows there's nothing he can do. The vengeance thing has been taken care of, so…yeah. _

_And you?_

_It hurts me to see him like that. To see any of you like that. I wish I could bring her back for you_, she looked into his eyes deeply.

_Could you? Before all this happened?_

She shook her head, _No. I wasn't allowed to. I should've done it anyway. It would've spared you all so much grief._

_But then we would never be,_ he reminded her tenderly.

She actually smiled wanly, _I could live with that. Just so long as you'd be happy. And I know you would be. _

_Maybe some things aren't meant to be._

She eyed him sadly, _It was meant to be. I just didn't happen the way it was supposed to. _

Angel thought about that silently and knew it was hurting Hope to think about the might-have-been's. He winced as his chest flashed a moment of pain. Hope caught it and her mood visibly fell even more.

"Hope?" Wesley's voice stopped what would have been another painful conversation.

She looked over her shoulder to see the others at the counter with stacks of books. She touched Angel's shoulder tenderly, left him the blood, and walked over to the counter. She silently waited for more.

"If you're up to it, we could really use some help," Wesley treaded lightly.

She sat at the counter and nodded solemnly, "What can I do?"

Wesley and Gunn were obviously happy at her decision to join them. Gunn sighed, "We're getting jack with this list," he said, waving the pad and papers in the air.

Hope gently took them from him. She eyed the ingredients they'd been able to ascertain were stolen before the buildings blew up. She didn't have her vast knowledge, but she knew some of the combinations were mystical equivalents of guns and knives. But, without the full list, she knew there was no way to discover what the vampire robbers were planning.

"Nothing extremely dangerous."

"But you recognize some of the combinations?" Wesley asked hopefully.

She nodded and put the list down. She looked among the pile of books and, upon finding the one she wanted, opened it up to the index. She looked up the main ingredient she knew of and then turned to that page. She showed it to Gunn, Wes, Lorne and Groo.

" 'The Riujiug Awakening' Hmm. Interesting," Wesley read the title of the spell.

"With these ingredients, that's the most likely spell they'd be doing," Hope added.

"They plan to conjure ancient magi spirits for knowledge and power?" Lorne asked with a touch of incredulousness, "That seems a little beyond the average vampire."

"Not if someone's leading them who _isn't_ an average vampire," Angel spoke up.

"But we do not have all the ingredients," Groo reminded them all.

Hope sighed, "Which means I'm more or less wrong. They wouldn't go through all this trouble and then _not_ use half of the things they stole."

"Could you find out what the other ingredients are?" Gunn asked.

Hope paled slightly, "I doubt it."

"Surely, if anyone could, you could, Hope. There must be some mystical way of finding them," Wesley prompted.

Hope inhaled deeply, "I don't think so. Not for this."

Wesley, Gunn, Lorne and Groo seemed to accept that and took another look at the spell Hope had pointed out for them all. Hope tried to keep herself calm. She couldn't bear their continual plea for help right now. Especially when they didn't know she couldn't do a thing.

She shuddered.

* * *

Hope looked on helplessly as Winifred Burkle stumbled around a large lab. Hope looked around. She had never seen this place before and, as she now felt, it was evil. She turned her attention back on Fred. As the young woman tried to keep herself moving, she accidentally knocked over a beaker. It fell and smashed on the floor. She kept on moving, trying to keep herself occupied.

Wesley walked in quickly holding a large volume. He eyed her seriously and moved towards her.

"Fred, you can't be doing this," he begged of her.

Hope eyed her still, seeing how sick and pale she was.

She held up her hand in protest, "Please, Wesley. I am…exactly the person to be doing this," she said choppily as she looked at numerous test tubes and beakers, "Something could've been missed," she said, leaning over in weakness and holding onto her head.

Wesley walked closer, "Whatever it is that's happening, we will stop it. I swear to you."

* * *

"Oh, God! Hope!" Gunn sprung over the counter as he saw Hope fall from the stool. He was the first to scoop her up and pat her on the cheeks.

Even wounded, Angel limped over to her and sat down with her on the tile floor. He took her from Gunn and eyed her for a moment, calling her name. Her eyes were closed and moving rapidly as though she were in a dream.

"Another vision?" Wesley asked, bringing a glass of water down to the floor where everyone was now convened.

Angel shook his head, still looking at her and shaking her gently, "I don't know. Hope!"

Wesley pressed his fingers to her neck and felt for her pulse, "She's still alive. Her pulse is strong," he confirmed.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Gunn asked.

"Last time I checked, it took her almost two hours to get out of this," Lorne reminded them all.

Angel shifted in pain, "Wes, Gunn, take her to the couch. Keep her comfortable," he ordered.

They took her from his lap and he stood on his own. In pain, Angel hobbled over to the sofa and sat on the edge next to her, "Hope?"

"No use, man. She's outta it," Gunn said, standing next to him.

Angel exhaled sharply, "Hope?" he asked again.

* * *

Hope saw Fred shake her head slightly, "I have to work."

He eyed her, "You have to lie down."

She straightened herself in defiance, "I am not—I am not the damsel in distress! I am not some case. I have to work this!" she looked at him pleadingly, "I lived in a cave for five years in a world where they killed my kind like cattle; I am not going to be cut down by some monster flu. I am _better_ than that!" she raised her voice and it wavered.

Hope found herself becoming misty-eyed. She didn't know what was happening, but she could feel it. She could feel something destroying Fred.

"But I wonder—how very scared I am?" Fred asked, her own eyes misty as she looked at Wesley deeply.

Wesley walked closer and put the book he'd been carrying down, "I swear on my life we will stop this," he said sternly, "But you must be back in bed. That's where I need you to fight."

"Like I'm six years old?" she asked.

She tumbled.

Wesley caught her.

"This is the house of death," she said simply.

* * *

Hope opened her eyes and felt the tears that had been trapped under her lids fall free down the sides of her face.

"Hope!" Angel said strongly, taking her face in his hands.

She focused on him and swallowed hard, forcing the tears away, "I'm okay. I'm here," she assured him. She tried to sit up.

"Are you sure you are well?" Groo asked.

Hope nodded. She saw the guys surrounding her and tried to seem sturdy and confident.

"I'm all right," she said again.

"A vision?" Angel asked.

She nodded, "How long was I out?" she asked, trying to avoid the subject of her vision.

"Little over an hour, pudding," Lorne answered.

"Here, have some water," Wesley handed it to her.

She took it, thankful her hands weren't quivering, "Thanks."

"What did you see?" Gunn asked.

Hope paused, "I don't remember."

She caught Angel's knowing face. He knew she was lying. But she knew he wouldn't press the matter in front of everyone else. She took another sip of water and stood, moving back and forth to expel the energy she felt inside. She swallowed hard, still feeling her gut wrench from seeing whatever it was that was happening to Fred. She tried to slow her breathing but could only feel her heart beat faster.

* * *

Angel watched Hope as she stayed in his office. She was looking through books that, for his trade, seem useless: medical reference books and books on epidemics—she even had a few medical journals she'd pulled up online printed out. He didn't know what she was looking for, but he had a suspicion it was related to her vision. The guys had continued to look up possible formulas that could be made from the ingredients until the sun set and they could hit the streets to see what news there was.

Angel, knowing he was still in rough shape, knew he wouldn't be going anywhere. But, being that he could limp around, he walked over to his office and watched Hope for a moment. She was mumbling to herself.

"No, I already looked at that one," she said in exasperation.

There was a pause and then she shrugged a shoulder, "Don't. I need to find out what this is," she said, her eyes looking over her side for a moment.

Angel couldn't tell if she was hallucinating or trying to keep her spirits up. He stepped into the office, "Who are you talking to?" he asked.

She looked up and then to her side. Her face registered disappointment. She looked at him, "No one."

Angel walked in fully and closed the door behind him. Hope barely paid him any mind; she continued to peruse through the books and journals.

"Hope, we need to talk."

"About what?"

"What did you see in your vision?"

She paused and remained silent.

"Hope?"

She kept her eyes on the text she was reading, "I don't remember."

"What did you see?"

This time, she looked him square in the eyes, "I don't remember," she enunciated each word.

"You mean you won't tell me."

"That, too."

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't concern you."

He tried to hide the pain her remark dealt him. He sat across from her and winced as he did so; his leg was still yelling at him for moving around, "Then who does it concern?"

"Angel, please," she begged him.

"I need to know what is going on, Hope. In case you've forgotten, I don't have a link with the Powers That Be anymore. _You_ are my higher guide," he eyed her.

She sighed, "I know that. But I also know that you can't be involved with this vision. I'm sorry."

He tried to keep calm and crossed his arms over his chest in mild frustration, "I talked to the Record Keeper," he said directly.

Hope stopped what she was doing and put the book down. She looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

"He talks normally now. I can understand him a little better. He told me some interesting things. Things about you…and about me," he said, watching her face pale slightly.

"Angel…"

"I know how bad you're hurting. You lost Michael. You've lost your powers. And you don't have the Old One or the Record Keeper. Let me in, Hope. Let me help you deal with this. I need to be involved so I don't feel so helpless."

She bit her lips and pressed them together, "As helpless as you feel, you're wrong. It takes _so_ much of me to keep everything together. The guys don't know how pathetic I am because I know _they_ need something to believe in," her eyes started to water, "And I have nothing anymore. I have _nothing_ to believe in. Except you. And I am at an impasse. I can have you upset with me for not telling you, or I can have you hate me for letting you know how much there is that _we_ _can't_ _change_. You don't need the burden I carry. Believe me. No one does."

She stood violently amid a stream of tears and stormed from the office. Angel just sat there, paralyzed by her tender and protective words. He felt a hand close around his own throat and he fought with the tears that wanted to be let free. He leaned an elbow on the armrest and let his hand cover the bottom of his face.

* * *

Hope took out the cotton tape that lay on the shelf and wrapped it around her bare fists a few times. Eyeing the bag for a moment, she circled it. With a burst of anger, she threw a punch. To her disappointment, the bag didn't move as much as it once had. She threw another punch, one after that, and another after that. With all of her anger, frustration and tears, she kept throwing punches, hoping it would drain her enough and she'd stop crying.

"It wasn't your fault."

She clamped her jaw before responding, "You should still be here."

He shrugged, "It isn't the worst thing in the world to be dead, you know. Peaceful, actually."

"That doesn't make it easier. I should have been able to save you."

Michael stayed behind her, "Even you can't do everything."

"I should be able to."

"You are talking to someone?" Groosalugg asked sincerely, eyeing Hope.

She turned to look at him and quickly wiped the tears from her eyes, "Myself."

"I see. I saw you run from the office. I am worried about you. I heard you speaking and assumed I could speak with you."

She hit the bag again viciously, "Sure. Can't focus on the job, huh?"

"No."

"Because of Cordelia?"

"Yes. Seeing her has made me grieve."

Hope sighed, "I'm sorry I can't help her."

"Oh, no. It is I who must apologize. I feel as though I made you angry at yourself for your inability."

"I have every right to be."

"Why?"

"Long story."

"About Michael?"

Hope looked at him unsurely.

"Wesley told me how you are grieving."

"Did he?"

"Yes. He said you had been grieving for some time."

"So, maybe we aren't so different, Groosalugg."

"I do not understand."

"Different worlds, half breeds, lost loves…we aren't different at all."

"But you have power, do you not?"

"Not enough, obviously."

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't save my friend," Hope said sadly, throwing another punch at the bag.

"Did you kill him?" Groo asked innocently.

Hope shot him a look, "No!"

"Then what more could you do for him besides be his ally? Was that not enough?"

"Is that enough for you? In Cordelia's case?"

"It must be."

Hope sighed and leaned against a set of file cabinets, "She loved you, you know. She always will."

"You can tell?"

"Yes. I know how much she loved you. And how much you still love her."

"She loved Angel."

"But she still cared for you. Just not the way you were accustomed to at first. But she always cared about you."

"And you cared for Michael?" he asked.

"He was everything to me. Mentor. Friend. One-time lover. Everything."

"I know that feeling."

"I just can't stop the pain. I know I should stop grieving, but I can't help it."

His brow furrowed, "Stop grieving?"

Hope cocked an eyebrow, "I'm supposed to be strong."

"How long did you know Michael for?"

"Five and a half million years or so."

"And you think that _not_ grieving would be strong?" he asked.

She looked at him pathetically, "Isn't it?"

He shook his head, "I do not believe so. To face that pain is to have strength."

"I wish I could see things like that again. Since I've been on the mortal plane, things have become so complicated. I don't know what's right anymore."

Groo gently placed a hand on her shoulder, "You will. Someone so powerful as you will find that truth."

She smiled at his innocence, "You sound so sure."

"I know it to be true."

Hope eyed him as he looked at the punching bag momentarily. His calm exterior impressed her. But she knew he was hurting. It wasn't that she could feel it; it was she knew what he was going through.

"Would you like to continue hitting the hanging bag?" he asked.

She gave a lopsided smile and a harrumph, "It'd be nice."

"Here. I shall hold it for you." he braced his weight behind his muscular hands and waited for her to hit.

She did. He fumbled slightly; he didn't expect her to be so strong. She took some small pleasure in that and hit the bag again harder.

"May I ask you something?" he asked.

She hit the bag again and nodded, "Go ahead."

"Are you in love with Angel?"

* * *

Angel finally stood from the office chair and walked out of the office. He wanted to see Hope. He wanted to talk to her and keep her from hurting so bad. He hobbled past the counter and towards the basement door. He opened it silently and started to make his way down the stairs.

"I am," he heard Hope say.

He paused, wondering what she and Groosalugg were talking about.

"How could you tell?" she asked tiredly.

"I know the feeling. I can tell you love him."

"I love him so much. He made me what I am. He's been in my life for so long," she sighed.

Angel felt she was talking about Michael. He clamped his jaw together in frustration. No matter how close they seemed, he knew Michael held a closer place in her heart. He made her what she was: foibles and all.

"I do not understand," Groo said.

"I been with him from day one. As soon as I got my powers, he was the center of my world. Everything revolved around him. When he was Angelus, things were hard. But even seeing everything he could do—what he did to me—I still saw so much potential for Angel. Angelus was my greatest enemy. Angel is my greatest hope," she sighed.

Angel thought about her for a moment. He had thought she'd been talking about Michael. Now he felt guilty for jumping to that conclusion. He thought about revealing himself but stayed out of sight.

"Does that bother you? Knowing that I love him?" Hope asked Groo.

"I left so Cordelia could be happy. If things did not work out for her and Angel, that is beyond my control. I am happy that he has found someone."

Hope sighed, "They would have worked out if other things didn't get in the way. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't come along when I did."

"To ponder about such things causes grief. And, as far as I have seen, you have enough grief to deal with now. Do not burden yourself."

She sounded as though she were smiling in spite of the situation, "I have to. It's kinda my job."

Angel purposefully stepped down hard on the next step. Hope walked up to him, concern evident in her eyes, "Is everything all right?" she asked.

He nodded, "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I was just hitting the bag. I needed to."

He nodded and looked at Groo awkwardly, "Helping her out?"

"I hope so," he smiled, "I should go upstairs in case I am needed."

They both watched him walk away and waited patiently. Hope just stood there with her taped up fists and tried to seem nonchalant.

"I made you that mad, huh?" he asked, looking at her slightly bruised knuckles.

She just noticed them, "I guess I'm not so resilient anymore."

He sat on the bottom step and let the weight off his leg, "I'm sorry that I upset you. It wasn't what I wanted to do," he assured her.

Hope shrugged, "Don't worry about it. We should probably keep working on this whole robbery thing. I don't like the idea of letting it linger."

"We can go out tonight and see what comes from the streets," Angel suggested.

Hope cocked an eyebrow and started unraveling her taped fists, "You're not going anywhere."

He recognized some of the old authority in her voice and smiled slightly. He could only hope that she would deal with her grief in due time and deal with the matters at hand as she felt up to them. He watched her as she sat down across from him, the tape being rolled up into a ball. She was, despite her tussled hair and dewy face, still amazingly beautiful to him. Her strength from the inside still shone so brightly, he swore he could see it. He only wanted her to see it the way he did—maybe she could deal with everything if she saw what he saw.

"You still won't tell me what you saw, will you?"

"I can't burden you like that right now."

"I understand. At least I think I do."

Hope sighed heavily and stood. Angel stood, too, "I guess we should both go back upstairs. I feel like there should be something more with those ingredients. Maybe we can find it," she suggested.

She started to walk towards the stairs and him and, as she brushed his arm, he grabbed her and turned her to face him. Her initial resistance gave way as he planted a deep, tongue-driven kiss to her lips. He could feel her melt under his touch and he ran his hands from her face to her neck, feeling her pulse race as he continued to touch and kiss her.

She pulled away in a whirl and looked at him, trying to slow her breathing, "No…not now," she said, knowing very well what would come if they continued to kiss.

She took another step up the stairs and he followed her, taking her waist in his hands. He shifted her up against the wall and leaned into her, kissing her again. She gave in and felt herself melt again, her own skin heating with anticipation. But her logical mind kicked in again and she pressed against his chest with a gentle strength.

"We can't do this," she said in a whimper.

Angel still kept his body pressed against hers. He could feel her heartbeat against his own chest and could feel the difference in pressure as she inhaled and exhaled calmly, trying to get her bearing. He swallowed hard and pushed back his arousal. He ran a hand up her neck and into her hair, feeling the silky waves caress his fingers. He let his forehead touch hers and felt her press into him slightly, trying to maneuver away from the temptation. He caught her arm with his free hand and pressed her hard against the wall. Some of the dust and cement fragments that had built up over the years fell from the impact. He caught the glimmer of appreciation in her eyes and pushed his luck again, kissing her once more.

This time, she gave over and braced her weight against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders. He pulled her up slightly and she sat on the railing, her legs around his waist. He nuzzled against her neck and felt her moist whimper run against his ear.

"Whoa," Gunn stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of the two of them.

Angel quickly leaned away from Hope and she slid from the railing to stand on the stairs. She wiped away the kisses Angel had left on her neck and looked away bashfully. Angel straightened and tried to hide himself from Gunn—if only partially.

Gunn hid his own embarrassment as well as he could and waited a moment for them to say the first word.

"Something come up?" Hope asked, her voice quavering form her own arousal.

"Obviously," he muttered.

Hope shot him a look while Angel just moved farther away from the situation and towards the bottom stair. She, on the other hand, just eyed Gunn and waited for the real answer to her question.

Gunn cleared his throat, "Wesley and I were going to hit the streets. We wanted to know if you were up to going," he said truthfully.

She nodded, licking her lips, "Let me just get dinner for the road," she said simply. She walked away from Angel and past Gunn.

Gunn remained behind for a moment and tried to think of some way to apologize for making the comment he did. When nothing came to mind, he turned and walked away to follow Hope. He saw her at the counter with a container of blood and dealt with the instinctual disgust her appetite gave him.

She looked to Groosalugg, "Care to come?" she asked.

Groo smiled helpfully, "If you think I will be of assistance," he allowed.

Hope looked at Angel and Lorne. Angel had controlled his own passion and now felt comfortable to be among the others. He was sitting on the couch and nursing his leg and chest wounds, "You guys stay here. I'll call if we need any more muscle," she said pointedly to Angel.

He nodded. He accepted that, at the moment, Groosalugg was in the best shape to handle anything that came up. Hope herself was exuding the leadership she'd shown so many times before and was evidently in the role completely.

"Weapons?" Gunn asked.

"Me," Hope said decidedly. She looked over to Angel, "I'll be back soon," she promised him.

He smiled at her abrupt turnaround and wondered what had spurned it on as she and the others walked from the double doors out to the sunset streets outside. He sighed heavily and thought about her. He sometimes felt like she was so deep in personality that he would never truly know what changed her moods so drastically and so quickly.

"Nice to see you two are still getting along," Lorne smiled, tipping his Seabreeze in Angel's direction.

* * *

Wesley sat in the passenger's seat of Hope's Honda Element and eyed her as, with grim determination, she took off.

"Where to first?" Gunn asked from the backseat.

"I want to hit Willy up."

"A snitch, I presume," Wesley looked around as the nightlife started to show itself.

"He's the one who told me about the Pogrom temple off Jackson. He might have more information about the vamps doing this gig."

"Willy. The name sounds familiar," Wes thought aloud.

"It should. He's from Sunnydale," she spared a glance at him.

Hope drove for a short while and pulled into a commercial bar district. The bars lined the streets. Most of them catered to humans. Hope parked the SUV and got out, waiting for the others.

"What will you have us do?" Groo asked eagerly.

Hope actually smiled, "Let me do my job. Don't stop me. Do what I tell you," she said. She assumed she would have to beat the information out of Willy like she had done before. But, with her diminished strength, she didn't know how tactful that would be.

She walked up to the solid door and rang the security bell. The intercom came on.

"We're closed," Willy's voice came through, "Come back tomorrow."

"It's me, Willy," Hope said simply.

The little peep window cover slid open and Willy peered out. He swallowed hard and Hope heard the distinct sound of deadbolts being unlocked. He opened the door for her and stepped aside to let her in. She smiled congenially at his compliance and waited for him to lock the doors behind the company she kept. Willy quickly moved behind the bar, trying to put space between him and her.

"What can I get for you, Young One?" he asked nervously.

She sat at the bar and looked around, "My usual."

He swallowed hard, "What do you need to know?"

"Robberies and explosions—who's starting them?" she asked.

He shook his head forcefully, "I don't know. The news channel said it was gang related. Count on the sheriff to blame it on the gangs, huh?"

"You must know something."

"I haven't been getting as much of the dead crowd. Not lately, anyway. My supplier for blood ran dry. I need to find a new one," he explained quickly and choppily.

Hope smiled sarcastically, "Don't you just _hate_ when the well runs dry?"

She grabbed him by the collar and pulled him right over the bar top. He stumbled to his feet and stood, eyeing her and her entourage, "I wouldn't lie to you, Hope. I respect you _way_ too much to do that."

Hope found his groveling almost empowering, "I appreciate the sentiment. But that's not what I want to hear," she bore down on the smaller man.

He cowered and looked between her fierce eyes and her company, "I swear I haven't heard anything."

Hope pulled her fist back dramatically.

"But I have a theory!" he said in a high-pitched voice.

She stopped her fist, "Enlighten me."

"The news is out. About you," he stammered.

Hope's heart skipped a beat for a moment.

"The underground knows about Michael. They know he's out of the picture. Lotta demons thinking you're weak. They're all talking big, you know? Maybe some of the vamps are thinking the same thing. They might be trying to pull something over you," he said seriously with a small amount of concern for her evident in his voice.

Hope considered him for a moment. His posture and voice told her everything her powers—or lack thereof—couldn't tell her. He was telling the truth. She backed down and straightened. She looked around the bar for a moment.

"Good dealer out of San Diego. Deals in the rare blood types. Good stuff, if I do say so myself," she told him simply.

He seemed somewhat taken aback at the lack of violence coming his way, "Really?"

"Wes—a business card?" she asked.

Wesley handed her one.

She wrote her cell phone number on the back and handed it over to Willy, "When the supply comes in, you give me a call. For your own sake."

He stared at her for a moment, "What blood type?"

She cocked an eyebrow silently.

He inhaled deeply, "Oh! You mean the vampires. Right. They start talking…I hear…the supply. Got'cha. Will do."

She reached into her pocket and concentrated for a moment. Her mind was able to produce a few bills and she pulled them from her pocket. She handed them over to Willy. He took them in awe and counted them quickly.

"Wow…this is…wow."

"For the blood. Get it here. Get the crowd back. Or next time I come in here, it won't be so peaceful. Understand?"

He nodded quickly, "Completely. No worries. I'll get the dead joint up and hoppin' just for you! Count on it."

She leaned in closer to him, "I am."

She backed away from him and he walked over to the steel door. He unlocked the several deadbolts there were and opened it for her. She started to walk out.

"Hope," he started.

She paused with the others to see what he would say.

"I'm sorry. About Michael. I know he was important to you. My condolences," Willy said quickly, almost thinking he was stepping out of line.

Hope considered him and nodded, "Thank you," she said sincerely before walking out all the way. She stood in the warm air for a moment before moving back to her car.

"Hope?" Gunn asked.

"Hmm?"

"You okay?" he finished.

"Fine," she lied.

"Any other informants you know of?" Wesley asked.

"None as credible as Willy," Hope sighed.

"How much money did you give him?" Gunn thought aloud.

"Five grand," Hope said nonchalantly. She leaned against the car door.

"What?" Gunn yelled.

She looked at him plainly, "Shipping in blood is expensive. I think we should split up. I'll take the north side of the street. Gunn, Wes—take the south side. Groosalugg, stay in the alleys. Don't ask questions. Just keep an ear out. We should meet back at the car in two hours," she finished, looking around.

"Are you sure you want to go alone, Hope?" Groosalugg asked.

She nodded, "Two hours," she reminded them before taking off to the far side of the street. The three men watched her go and then Wesley led Gunn to the bar next door. Groosalugg walked down a ways and then disappeared into the shadows.

They walked in to see an assortment of demons already sitting at the bar and at booths around the walls. They sat down and waited for a moment. Gunn sighed.

"Something is very not right."

"How so?" Wesley asked as the waitress came closer to them.

They ordered waters. The waitress departed.

"Hope never healed Angel."

Wesley sighed, "Yes. I had noticed that. Perhaps she is dealing with too much at the moment to heal others."

"Wes, time was she could heal_ all_ of us and still kick butt. He's always the first one to get the attention because he's her honey. Now she won't heal him? Tell me something isn't right," he dared his friend.

Wesley only remained quiet for a moment, "There's nothing we can do to change her mind about that. She will do what she wants to do."

"And what about when it's our ass on the line?"

"What do you suggest we do? Call her out?" Wesley asked incredulously.

"Talk to her. We have a right to know if she ain't playing up to par, don't we?"

"She's not some servant, Charles. She's a god," Wesley lowered his voice confidentially, "What right do we have to question her motives or her secrets? She has every right to keep them. But, I do agree that something is not right."

* * *

Hope sat in the fourth bar watching the half-breeds and vampires intermingle with the unsuspecting humans. They knew nothing about the demons that walked among them. She sighed heavily. She could only distinguish because she could use her own vampiric senses to feel out those who were most like her. But, even that wasn't a sure bet.

She kept her back to the barkeeper and the bar itself. She just eyed the crowd for anything that might stand out before she turned her back to hide herself from view and keep a low profile. She saw a couple deeply focused on one another. She couldn't tell if it was a one-night stand or a true, real love. But they were so enamored with one another. It was obvious even to her. She sighed heavily. She wished she could have that carefree existence with Angel. He deserved a woman who could give him that much. She thought about him. He had trusted her in Yeodon Shin's temple. She didn't let him down. The trust that had wavered since the First had controlled her body was fresh and fulfilled again. She could feel that much before her powers were taken away from her. He trusted her again. He loved her completely and without reserve.

With another quick look around the room, she turned her back to face the bar finally. The bartender eyed her. Actually, he was eying her leather duster and wondering why she was wearing it in eighty-degree weather.

"What can I get for you?" he asked.

"Rum and coke, please," she asked politely.

He went off to get her drink and she took one of the pretzels from a bowl that was for the patrons. He came back quickly and handed it to her with a coaster.

"One rum and coke."

She smiled and placed the money on the counter so she could leave at any time without having a running tab. She raised the glass to her lips and saw the same woman who had been so enamored only a moment ago was missing. But the guy was still there. He was intently looking at air. She cursed herself inwardly—she hadn't been able to tell the woman was a vampire. She watched as the man, with his arms around thin air, walked from the table and towards the doors.

Hope knew what would happen the moment they stepped from the streets and into the alleyway. She paused for a moment. It was a brief moment. But she had never felt like pausing before deciding whether or not to take on a vampire.

She downed the rest of her rum and coke and slid from the barstool to follow the intimate couple into the dark streets.

* * *

Gunn and Wesley walked into the next bar. This one, much like Willy's was made strictly for demons. It was an establishment no self-respecting human would enter. Even the upper-class demons wouldn't be seen here. This place was for the lowest of the castes: the vampires and the fully recognizable demons of uncivilized manner. Wesley chose to sit near the exit in case anything should happen that become too rowdy for his tastes.

"How long we have?" Gunn asked.

"Half an hour or so," Wesley said, looking at his watch.

"You think Hope or Groo are finding anything?" Gunn asked, keeping his back to the fight-prone crowd.

"I doubt it. Everyone seems to be quiet tonight."

"I guess Monday's suck for the demon world, too," Gunn quipped.

"So it would seem."

* * *

Hope felt her heart thump rapidly in her chest as she followed a safe distance from the man she planned to rescue. Hope sighed at the innate quality of a man. Ready to do the deed with any female that showed interest in them. Typical male.

Now the atypical ones were the ones to keep close.

Hope looked at her watch. The meeting time was coming up in a few minutes. She had to get in, kill the she-vamp, and get out. She knew her best bet was to wait until the vampire was distracted. She would be easier to kill. So, taking advantage of her still-strong vampiric skills, she let herself change over and felt the visage of a demon take over that of her human face. She jumped and landed on a fire escape and, from there and away from the crowds below, scaled the side of the building. From the adjoining rooftop, she eyed the two of them as they started to make out passionately. The vampire showed her true face and depended on the intensity of her bait to make him miss her features. He nuzzled her neck and, as was the case, she started to nuzzle his in the worst way.

Hope dropped the few stories and landed ungracefully. She grabbed a shard of old crate and raised it high as the man gaped in pain.

The vampire knew she was coming. Hope was thrown back and fell, the stake gone. The vampire looked at her with a smile. She kept a firm grip on her prey.

"Go get your own," she hissed.

Hope stood and shook away the vampire face, "I'm not here to eat," she said.

The vampire instantly recognized her face now that it was set in its natural form. She threw the man aside. He scrambled to his feet and ran. She cocked an eye and faced Hope fully.

"An honor. I didn't know little ole me would get the attention of Hope," she quipped.

Hope tossed a carefree smile, "What can I say? You're special," she said sarcastically.

The vampire lunged at her. Hope dodged once and made a run for the stake. But the vampire was quicker. She turned on a dime and grabbed Hope by the wrist as she went to reach for the stake and grabbed it herself. Hope swung with all her might and broke the grip. But she felt a bone shatter in her wrist. Keeping her wounded dominant arm close to her chest, Hope only eyed the vampire for a moment. She circled the goddess like a vulture waiting for its next meal to die.

"Slow," she sighed, "Very slow."

"It's been an off day," Hope excused her behavior the best she could.

The vampire cocked her eyebrow, "I can make it worse."

She ran at Hope with the goddess' own stake. Hope kept her injured wrist close to her torso and her other arm at her side.

As the vampire tried to impale her, Hope materialized another stake and raised her left hand with it. As she watched the vampire explode into a cloud of dust, she looked down at her shoulder. The stake she'd lost was lodged firmly into her left shoulder just above her breast. It wasn't deep but it wasn't pain-free.

Hope pulled her duster off the one shoulder and snapped the stake just before it hit the skin. She winced as the stake tip was wiggled in her muscle and rubbed more now that she needed to put her duster back on. But it wasn't bleeding yet. The tip was keeping the blood from showing itself.

Gingerly pulling her duster back over the wound, she put both her hands in her pockets to keep the damage as minimal as possible. Her right wrist was swelling slightly. It wasn't a complete break—Hope knew that much. But there was a possible fracture.

She didn't bother to look at her watch and moved back towards the Element. She arrived to see the others were waiting for her. Groo was the first to approach her.

"Are you fine?" he asked.

"Dandy," she said nonchalantly, trying to mask her pain as it grew.

"You're ten minutes late," Gunn said, "We were starting to get worried."

She refrained from shrugging, "Watch must be slow," she dug with her injured wrist and found her keys. Making sure her sleeve cuff was up to her knuckles, she pulled the keys out and handed them to Wesley, "Drive," she said choppily, trying to ignore the mounting pain.

"No please?" he asked somewhat jokingly.

Hope just cocked an eyebrow and mentally opened the doors. She slipped in and sat there without her seatbelt on. The others clambered in and Groosalugg closed her door for her.

"Just drop Groosalugg and me off at the Hyperion."

"It's only nine-thirty," Gunn reminded her.

Hope ignored him, "You can bring the car back in the morning," she finished, keeping her face as straight as possible.

"Are you sure? We could stay and talk about the bars…" Wesley suggested.

"Wesley," Hope said in a matronly, warning-infused tone.

The subject was dropped and the four of them rode in silence. Once the car stopped, Hope waited for a moment. Groosalugg, sitting in the middle row of seats next to Hope, got out and held the door open for Hope. He watched her delicately scoot out of the car and walk briskly towards the doors.

"I guess we'll see you tomorrow," Gunn called out after her.

She didn't respond.

Groo ran after her after he closed the door. Gunn and Wesley shared a look as Hope just walked on.

* * *

Angel could smell the blood. As soon as Hope walked in, he could smell her blood. It was a tiny amount. She was hiding the view of it well. But it was there. He watched her walk from the main double doors to the elevator. She used her right elbow to push the button, and waited for it to open for her.

"Hey, how was the—" Lorne stopped as she walked into the elevator without acknowledging him. The doors closed and she was gone.

"She is very uptight," Groosalugg stated for the other two.

Lorne's brow furrowed, "Evidently."

Angel stood. His leg had healed a bit more and now gave him less pain as he stood on it, "Groo, Lorne, make yourselves at home," he said, moving quickly and awkwardly to the stairs.

He took them two at a time and stopped by Hope's door. He looked into her room and saw she wasn't there. He didn't expect her to be. The major first aid kit was in his room. And, to keep the others from knowing, she wouldn't use the more accessible one down in the atrium.

He walked into his room to see her fumbling with her duster. He eyed her and could smell the blood and pain coming off her in waves.

"Hope?" he asked.

She sniffled and didn't look at him, "What?" she asked; she was obviously crying.

"Where are you hurt?" he asked.

She knew he could smell the trickle of blood that was dripping down her chest from her shoulder, "Left shoulder," she said simply, "And I think I fractured my right wrist," she added pathetically.

He hobbled over to her and started to gently remove her duster. He saw the small lump of wood coming from under her shirt, "Demon?"

"Vampire."

He sat her on the bed and opened the first aid kit. He slipped her other arm from the sleeve and saw her swollen wrist. He sighed. Without saying a word, he cut her shirt off her so she wouldn't have to move her shoulder. He grabbed the edges of the wood firmly and looked at her. She nodded.

He pulled.

She cried out and leaned into him. He could feel her tense and felt wet tears on his own shoulder. He held her for a moment and waited for her to lean back on her own. When she did, he saw the mascara running down her cheeks.

"I'll stitch it up for you," he said simply.

She nodded, "Thanks."

"Can you heal yourself?" he asked, knowing the question was somewhat pointless.

"No," she said through gritted teeth.

He put the needle to her skin for the first time and watched her eyes moisten, "Do you heal fast without the powers?"

"Yeah. 'Bout the same as you," she inhaled sharply as he started the next stitch.

"Were you trying to prove something to yourself?" he asked harshly.

"No. Man was in trouble."

"You took the fight alone?"

"Not much choice. Only one vampire. Thought I could handle it."

"You were drinking?" he asked, smelling the rum on her breath.

"Rum and coke. Just one," she assured him.

He finished the last stitch and watched her visibly relax as he cut the string. He moved over to her wrist and started to wrap it in ace bandage tightly. She exhaled deeply as though she'd been holding her breath the entire time.

He finished wrapping her wrist and then looked at her face. She was ashamed. Her eyes were cast to the floor and her lips were pressed together. He ran his thumb over her cheek, one at a time, to wipe away the tear and mascara trails. Her eyes finally met his and she looked so pathetic. He sighed heavily.

"You'll live," he promised her.

She exhaled sharply as part of a restrained chuckle.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Angel lifted the lid from the container of blood he had heated up. He turned and carried it to the nightstand. Keeping an eye on the sleeping Hope, he took a sip and looked around his room. Her bloodied shirt was cut in half and strewn on a chair armrest. Her duster had a small hold in the left shoulder and was tossed as the foot of the bed. But, looking back to Hope, he saw the real damage. Her face was tired even though she was asleep. Her shoulder was bruised almost as bad as her wrist from the impact. But, she was alive.

He pitied her so much.

Only yesterday was she trying to heal him.

Now she couldn't heal herself.

But the wounds were healing quickly. Compared to mortals, she was still a god. Compared to gods, she was only mortal. Caught in limbo. Not one, nor the other. He knew what that felt like. She opened her eyes and looked around. The sun had risen hours ago but his bedroom was still dark. She winced slightly and then saw him standing there over her.

"Hi."

He looked at her, "How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"Good. Breakfast?" he asked, sitting on the bedside next to her and offering her the container of blood.

She took a sip and made a pleased face, "Hmm. Warm."

He leaned over and kissed her, "I think you should just rest today. Stay up here and sleep."

She sat up in subtle defiance, "No, I have to be down there."

"Why?"

"Because they need me. I have to deal with this."

"No, that's what I'm here for."

"And how are you feeling?"

"Okay."

She tried to get out of bed. As she did, she recoiled and grabbed at her wounded shoulder. Pausing, she just stayed at the edge of the bed.

Angel stood and didn't embarrass her by helping her up, "I wish I was there last night," he moved toward the kitchenette counter.

"You were injured."

"Now you are," he turned to see her walk stiffly to the closet. She pulled out a pair of his khaki pants and a shirt. Eyeing her bra to make sure it had no unsightly amount of blood on it, she pulled his shirt on. She winced as she put her left arm through the sleeve. She buttoned the right cuff tightly to keep the bandages on her wrist from showing. She pulled on his pants and pulled the belt tighter than it usually went. Angel had to smile. She really had no clothes at the Hyperion anymore. And, unable to teleport to her penthouse for a new set for the day, she made his flatter her as best they could. He walked over to her and sighed heavily.

"They look better on you than me."

She continued to button the shirt and left the top ones undone, "It's the curves."

"I didn't know you were in trouble last night."

"It's not your fault," she said, assuming he was apologizing.

"No, I mean that I couldn't feel your pain. No emotions, nothing," he explained further.

Hope turned to face him with a contemplative face knowing she'd had a similar lack of experience, "The only reason I knew you were hurt was because I saw you at the hospital. I had a vision. Or a hallucination," she added offhandedly.

"I don't like not knowing."

She sighed and walked over to the counter to get her own container of blood, "Maybe it's best for now. With everything going on…" she trailed off as she poured the blood into a glass, then took a sip. She turned to walk back to the puffy comfortable chairs and saw Michael behind Angel. He was hanging from the ceiling. She gasped and dropped the glass. Angel looked at where she was looking and, upon not seeing anything, moved to her side.

"Hope?"

She couldn't answer. Her breath was still away from her lungs. Still, he hung there. His feet swayed in the motions of death.

"Hope?" Angel asked more intense.

She broke away from looking at the apparition and felt air rush back into her lungs, "Angel," she rasped.

He took her hands, "What? What did you see?"

She could only feel her throat tighten and she looked back in that direction again to see nothing. Her eyes misted over and she felt the tingle of grief in her mouth. She leaned into Angel and cried. Unaware of what she'd seen, Angel only comforted her. He ran his hands along her back and felt her convulse with heavy sobs.

"Shh. It's okay. I'm here."

"I keep seeing him."

Angel's brow furrowed, "Who? Michael?"

Her silence told him the answer. He held her tighter and ran his hands over her hair, keeping her close to his chest.

"It's guilt. Nothing more."

She pulled away enough to look him in the face, "But he's always here. We talk. He's not some ghost. He can't be."

Angel sat her down and got down on his haunches in front of her, "Listen to me: You feel guilty. I have some experience there. When Doyle…when Doyle died, I swore he was still around, just out of sight. Maybe you're just imagining Michael and whatever's left of your power is bringing that image to life," he tried to reason with her.

She kept her hands on his shoulders, "I let him die."

"No. No you didn't."

"I did. I know I did."

"You saved the world, Hope. You made a choice to save humanity. But you didn't let him die."

Her voice was unsteady, "He told me not to. H-he told me at Jerusalem. I had to, but it was the wrong choice," she whimpered.

Angel had no idea what she was talking about, "Hope."

"I made the wrong choice and I couldn't make it again," she inhaled sharply from sobbing.

"You made the right choice. You did what you had to," he bore into her eyes, trying to bring out the Hope he'd seen take control last night.

She shook her head, still sobbing, "No. Th-the Hellmouth opened and the First won. And I made the wrong choice and he told m-me not to. And I couldn't do that again. I cou-couldn't live with the guilt—but I want it. I don't want him dead. I don't care about them…I w-want him back. But he to-told me not to. And I chose you. I didn't want you to go. And now he-he's dead. He told me not to. But I did," she rambled unsteadily.

Angel felt his own eyes water up as her pain grew. He didn't know what choice she was talking about. He didn't know about Jerusalem or the Hellmouth there. He didn't know what Michael told her not to do. He pressed his lips together in pain and just stared at her as she broke down completely and leaned over her knees, holding her face in her hands and crying openly. He wrapped his arms around her and just held her, wishing he knew what he could do. Wishing he could make the pain go away for her.

* * *

Wesley looked round the atrium and saw that only Lorne was visible. Groosalugg, Hope and Angel were nowhere to be seen. He unloaded his knapsack and sat at the reception counter.

Lorne smiled at him, "Good morning," he said cheerily.

"Not so much," Wesley sighed, eyeing the pot of coffee and knowing he would have to wait to get his tea.

"Hmm, so you noticed," Lorne sat across from him with the morning paper, "I keep thinking Hope will come down those stairs all chipper and ready to go. But, alas, no beauty."

"She was in a foul mood by the end of the night," Wesley added.

"Tell me about it. Gal didn't so much as say hi when she walked in. Any idea what the huff was all about?" he took a sip of water.

Wesley shook his head, "We split up and when we regrouped, she was harsh."

"Do you think she went out too early? Being with Michael and him being, well, dead?"

Wesley leaned forward onto the counter, "I wish I knew. She handled herself well enough when we went to see an informant."

"Could just be a really good actress," Lorne cocked an eyebrow.

Groosalugg walked out from the basement. Wesley pondered that for a moment, then straightened, "Morning."

"Hail, Wesley. Are you well rested?" the Pylean asked eagerly.

"Well rested, yes. Well mood-ed, no."

"Yes. I fear for the consequences of last night as well," Groo stood at the end of the counter.

Wesley and Lorne exchanged a look, "Consequences?" Lorne asked.

"Yes. From Goddess Hope. She was obviously smitten with us last evening. I fear we have done something to anger her."

Wesley almost smiled, "I doubt it was us."

"You feel she is still grieving?"

"Likely," Wesley, "And, even if she were mad with us, she wouldn't punish us."

"Is that not what a Goddess does?"

"In most cases, if there are 'most cases'. But Hope isn't like that, Groo. She doesn't want to hurt us. She's just having it rough," Lorne explained quickly.

Wesley stood, "I think I should go see how she is. Maybe we can find out why she's changing so dramatically."

"I'll help you with that," Gunn said as he walked in from the back entrance.

"I don't think it would be prudent to crowd her."

"No crowd. Just us," Gunn shrugged.

Wesley considered him for a moment, "We're not trying to point fingers, remember that. We just want to see if she's all right," he reminded Gunn.

"Hey, maybe you wanna be all peace-boy. Me? I want answers about why she's acting the way she is," Charles said cockily.

"She's not up to visitors," Angel said strongly as he walked out from the shadows of the second floor and started to descend the stairs.

"Boo hoo," Gunn quipped.

Angel eyed him dangerously, "She had a hard night. This morning wasn't any better. She just needs to be alone for a while."

"Angel, I don't wish to cause a confrontation. But we need to know why she's suddenly passive-aggressive," Wesley eyed his friend.

"She lost Michael. What other reason does she need?"

"It's almost been a week. He ain't getter any deader," Gunn approached Angel.

Angel kept his hands in his pockets to keep from seeming aggressive himself, "She needs to deal with this on her own schedule."

"Her behavior last night was erratic, Angel. There's more going on than she's letting us know."

"If she is?" Angel asked pointedly, "Who are we to demand answers from her?"

"Yeah, take her side now. What you gonna do when one of us gets killed because that gal didn't feel like stepping into the role she took?" Gunn crossed his arms over his chest.

"Perhaps we are looking at this wrong," Groosalugg could feel the cumulative tension rising and tried to calm Gunn and Angel down.

"What 'role'? She is what she is," Angel said simply.

"She's a god, man. Time she start acting like one. The way I remember it, she used to be the one calling the shots when you were out of commission. You're back, I get that. But now she doesn't care about us or the problems we have," Gunn accused.

Angel felt what little control he had start to dissipate, "You have _no_ idea how wrong you are."

"Then can you explain it to us?" Wesley asked sincerely.

Angel wanted to tell them. He wanted them to know the truth but Hope didn't. She was still calling the shots. They just didn't know it, "I know as much as you," he lied.

"Why are you protecting her, Angel?" Wesley asked pointedly.

"She needs it. Right now, she is hurting more than any of you know. It takes more than a few days to shrug off death," he looked pointedly to Gunn, "You should know that. We all should. We've all lost people. People…who were close to us," he said, trying to think of a way to encompass the Wesley and Lilah liaison, "She knew him for five and half million years. We can't judge her now," Angel finished softly.

"I'm not looking to judge. I just want answers," Gunn seemed to hiss.

"I think we need to leave her alone for the day."

"I think you need to stop being her lawyer and tell us what the hell is going on," Gunn quipped loudly, threateningly.

"Charles," Lorne started reprovingly, knowing things were escalating fast.

Angel finally crossed his arms over his chest, unable to keep them in his pockets anymore, "When she wants to tell us something, she will. But I won't let you make her more upset by demanding answers in her face."

"Please, do not fight," Groo said simply.

"Not fighting. Just asking some questions and not gettin' any answers," Gunn took a step closer to Angel.

"We have no right," Angel repeated.

"We have every right."

"She saved your life, Gunn. You would've burned to death. This how you wanna thank her? Is it?" Angel asked quickly, choppily.

Gunn seemed to accept that for a moment and backed down. His back loosened up visibly and he crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm just saying she's shutting us out. Little voice says she did the same thing before she started tearing you up and trying to kill us."

"This has nothing to do with the First."

"How can you be sure? Have you asked her?" Wesley asked, staying silent until the anger was gone.

Angel looked between the two of them; "I need you to trust me on this. Right now, she needs us to be here for her. I plan to do just that."

Gunn nodded reluctantly, "Okay. I get that. I just wish we knew why she's going bipolar."

"She just needs time."

"Uh, guys?" Lorne called out, looking back at the television that had been silently playing in the background, "I think we're kinda out of that," he said worriedly.

* * *

Hope lay in bed, her eyes too dry to cry anymore. She just wanted to stop feeling the way she did. For one, the physical pain of her injuries that had gotten worse from the crying. Two, her emotional pain that wasn't eased by seeing a dead and hung Michael. But neither was going away anytime soon enough. So, with a set of blank eyes, she waited for her strength to come back. As much as she wanted to be left alone, she wanted to make a presence downstairs. She took a sip of the blood Angel had left for her, content in that for a moment.

"Hope?" Angel asked her as he walked in.

She looked at him forlornly.

"Something's wrong," he said quickly.

Hope sat up from the bed and looked at him, "What do you mean?"

"With me. There's something wrong with me."

She eyed him, "I don't understand."

He smiled warmly, "I know. But I thought you should know."

She stood shakily and approached him, "What are you tal—"

She felt his fist come across her face hard and fast. She fell back and landed half on the bed; she slipped down to the floor and felt a pang in her shoulder. She looked up to see what had happened and there was no one there. She stood and looked around the room. Angel wasn't there.

No, he was never there.

She felt at her cheek. It was sore. She hadn't hallucinated him being there. _Some_thing was here, with her. But, in that moment of contact she knew it wasn't Angel. It was something else. She continued to look around the spacious bedroom and still saw nothing. Pushing away the pain of her face and shoulder, she walked out of the room and with the notion of talking to Angel.

She shuddered.

"Oh no," she whimpered before her world changed.

* * *

"Police are looking for a woman who is suspected to be involved in a recent rash of robberies. The suspect is considered to be armed and dangerous. This woman, seen in an eyewitness account, should not be approached."

The guys just stared at the television.

"That can't be right," Wes said.

"It can't be her. It just can't," Angel swallowed hard, backing away from the television.

They all watched as a perfectly drawn image of Hope was flashed on the screen. They turned as there was a thumping and the sounds of a body hitting the floor over and over.

Angel ran and leaped up to the second floor. He turned the corner to see Hope lying at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes were staring out into nothingness and her body was limp.

"Hope!" he yelled at her.

* * *

Hope saw a red hand picking up some sort of vegetable soup. Following the hand, she saw something not too unlike the Christian devil…only without horns. His white hair was long and several tubes were connected to him.

"I'm curious," he started. Hope followed his gaze to see Wesley, "What makes you think I won't kill you where you sit?" he asked.

Wesley remained calm and collected, "Because you're smarter than the others. Smart enough to have your doubts about Angel…and rightly so," Wes said dangerously, "He's…unpredictable. And worse, he has a conscience."

The demon accepted that, "Hmm. You make a very persuasive argument."

Hope eyed Wesley, afraid of what was happening, "Wait. It gets better," she saw a glowing orb of hellish energy at his palm below the table.

He threw and the demon flew as well, falling face first onto the fine marble floor. Wesley stood and followed the path he had thrown his victim.

"Your influence on this world is over. The rest of the circle will wither and die like you are about to," he said calmly as he gathered more energy into his right palm.

The demon turned slightly to look at him, "You don't know who you're dealing with, do you, boy?" he stood and took the orb from Wesley in a single motion, "I mean, really. I crap better magick than this. Now, then, let me show you what a real wizard can do."

Wesley flew backwards and hit the marble wall hard. The demon walked closer and lifted Wesley up above the ground, suspended by will alone. Circling him, the demon smiled.

"Did you really think you had a shot at this?" he started as Wesley hung there, struggling against his will, "I can bend the very fabric of reality to my will. Your parlor tricks could _never_ kill _me_, boy," he chuckled.

Wesley looked down at him, his face hiding his pain well, "Then I'll just have to do this the old fashioned way," he lunged a switchblade at the demon's midsection.

The demon caught his wrist and smiled still, "Yes. I suppose we will," using his mind, the demon brought another blade to his hand and thrust it up under Wesley's ribcage.

Hope shuddered and gasped, seeing Wesley's face taken in a sort of fear and understanding she had never seen on his features before. But the demon was thrown back as Wesley took one more shot. Hitting the wall hard, the demon lost his will to hold Wesley and he was set down. Hope wanted to rush to his side and make things right. Her friend grabbed at his wound. He staggered forward a step, and fell as the being in Fred's shape called his name. She caught him, bringing him to the ground.

She eyed him apathetically, "This wound is mortal."

He grabbed at it, "Aren't we all?" he asked her quietly.

* * *

Angel jumped as she responded with a wild flail of her arms and an instinctual grab at him. Her breath was harsh and fast. She looked around and then saw who she was holding on to. She held her breath and swallowed hard, trying to calm herself.

"Are you okay?" Lorne asked; he and the others were crowding around, trying to ignore the broadcast they'd seen only seconds before.

She nodded hastily, her eyes focused on Wesley.

"No, you're hurt," Groo hunkered down next to her, pointing to her shoulder.

Hope didn't dare tell them it was the wound that had opened. They didn't need to know. She looked at Angel, "I'll be fine."

He picked her up and carried her down the stairs. After putting her on the couch, he unbuttoned the upper half of his shirt on her and pressed his hand against the bleeding wound. Without the instructions, Gunn and Lorne came back with gauze.

"A vision?" Angel asked.

She nodded.

"Do you remember it?" Wesley asked, sitting next to her and keeping the shirt away from the blood for Angel while the vampire pressed the new gauze at the wound.

She couldn't meet his gaze, "Barely."

"Guys, not now," Angel demanded, seeing that several of the stitches he'd put in last night had popped.

Gunn stood back to give her room and saw that the cuff on her right was tighter than the cuff on the left. He eyed her wrist and saw a flash of nude-colored ace bandage. At the edge was a visible streak of swollen purple-almost-ready-to-turn-yellow bruise. He eyed her face and saw the amount of pain she was in. He filed away the ace bandage for a time when Angel wasn't so protective.

"What happened?" Angel asked suddenly, seeing a forming bruise on her cheek.

She turned her face away, "It must've happened when I fell," she said hastily.

Angel eyed her cheek, unable to touch it. Both of his hands were busy taking care of her shoulder wound. But he knew the bruise wasn't from falling. The shape of it was wrong. Unlike the bruise she claimed it should be, it was a splotch and not a streak. If she had fallen and hit her cheekbone on the edge of a stair, the bruise would be long and narrow. This was too round. Too much shaped like a fist impact. But he knew she wasn't ready to talk about it in front of everyone. Maybe alone, but not with the others gathered around.

* * *

Gunn kept the stuff he saw to himself. Between walking in on an immensely romantic moment and seeing the evidently broken wrist, he kept things to himself. He had learned to a ways back. It made things easier to deal with. But, when Angel walked back from the couch where Hope was now solidly asleep, he knew he would talk to the right person.

"Okay, we need to figure out who is masquerading around looking like Hope," he said strongly, keeping his voice hushed on her account.

"Who in the world besides us knows who she is?" Lorne asked incredulously.

"The timeline should have prevented anyone from knowing she's not a registered person. In any way, shape or form. She's still only a child compared to the timeline she has," Wesley said tiredly.

"I do not understand this timeline," Groosalugg said honestly.

"I'll explain it to you later, Groo," Gunn promised, "But we have bigger problems right now. I'm seeing three. One: the robber who looks exactly like Hope. Two: Hope hasn't healed herself. Three: She had a vision and it knocked her out last the last two," he eyed the others for input.

Angel readied himself to lie for her, "I can explain number two. She can't focus enough to heal anyone. Not even herself. There's too much going on emotionally for her to do that," he said, hoping it made sense to the others.

"Understandable. That would explain her inability to heal you when you were injured in the sewers," Wesley nodded.

"That still leaves us with one and three. And I don't like either of them," Lorne said after he took a sip of his Seabreeze.

"We need to split up. Once the sun goes down, we'll all hit the streets. Until then, I want Wesley and Lorne looking through magickal texts. See what it would take to pull this off. Gunn, Groo, you two will start making a list of all demons that can pull off a glamour like this. Give me details. As much as you can find," Angel ordered.

Wesley looked at him, "What do you plan to do?"

Angel sighed, "I'm going to stay with Hope. Once she wakes up, we can go through interdimensional contacts."

They all nodded and the four others turned to get the supplies they would need. Angel watched them spread out for a moment, then turned to look at Hope.

She was gone.

"Dammit," he cursed.

"What?" Lorne looked at him.

"She's gone," Wesley filled in, seeing what Angel was seeing.

* * *

Her shoulder hurt. But she continued on. She couldn't bear lying there, seeing demons and dead things in her dreams—no, not dreams, nightmares. The streets were lined with hustling people and the beginning of a new day. The sun warmed her. Even in the summer, the sun was a welcomed feeling on her skin. She looked around and saw a little café. They'd met up there. After he'd been gone for so long, they sat there and had drinks. She smiled at the thought of having drinks with him again. But she knew it wouldn't happen. But still, something—some thought—was better than nothing. It was all too much for her to deal with right now. Her own wounds reminded her of that. She wasn't what she used to be. But she had to keep hoping that something would spark some untapped reservoir of power deep inside herself. The aromatic scent of lavender, chamomile and sage hit her nose. She inhaled deeply and stopped to gather more of the scent. She looked off to the direction of the smell and saw a metaphysical shop. The vampires hadn't looted it.

She wanted to go in. But she had no real reason to. The idea of gaining her powers back through magick was appealing although she knew they would never be as predictable or controllable or reliable. No, she couldn't use magick. Not in any sense of the word. So, she continued on to see how else she could clear her mind.

Her feet stopped by themselves as she came to a crossroads. She looked to the south and saw what road she was at. Knowing she would be safer to visit his grave in the daylight, she walked that way. The wrought iron fence was a bit prettier in the day. The church looked more inviting. She walked up the small hilly graveyard to see his stone. She sat next to it and took a slight reprieve from the sun in the shade. The huge tree was several feet away, but the canopy offered some cover. She ran her fingers over the engraved letters. His name wasn't on it. Like her, he had chosen a new name. He never told her his real name. She knew so much. But he'd told her so little.

All that was there was a small sentiment. Something he would appreciate. But, that was all he had. No funeral, no ceremony, no wake. Just a stone with a body under it. Buried under the cover of night. That was it.

"It was enough," he assured her.

She inhaled deeply, "You're not real," she said strongly.

"Aren't I?"

"You're in my mind."

"Maybe. But you want me to be here."

"Not anymore," she whispered.

He leaned in, "Excuse me?"

"I can't do this anymore. I need you to be gone."

There was a pause, "Hope…you need me around."

She straightened, "No. I need you to be dead. I need to move on. Groosalugg was right. I did all I could. I can't keep going on like this."

A pair of hands took her by the shoulders and made her look up. She winced and yelped as his hands grabbed her wound hard.

"You think you can get rid of this just by telling me to leave?"

She threw him off and, in that moment, he was gone. Shaken up, she looked around and just sat there at his gravestone.

"Hope?" she heard another voice.

She jumped to look at the source. She saw Angel. He was under the shade of the tree. She only eyed him for a moment.

"Angel?" she asked.

"I thought you'd be here."

She knew it was really him, not some apparition. She crawled over to the shade of the tree and just sat down. He sat down next to her gently brought her into his lap. She could smell a tint of char on him from being exposed to the sunlight on his travel over here. But she knew there was nothing she could do, so she let it alone. She lay in his lap and let him stroke her head gently.

"How's the shoulder?" he asked.

"Better," she answered.

He kept running his hands through her hair, keeping her secure in his lap and away from danger and trouble, "I was…uh…I was really impressed last night. The way you took charge. Reminded me of the old days," he said nostalgically.

"Didn't feel like it," she added.

"But you did it. You were a leader again."

She turned her head to look up at his face, "I don't wanna be the leader," she said pathetically.

Angel almost smiled. He nodded, "Okay. You won't have to be," he smiled to himself as she repositioned her top half to be more comfortable, "What made you take charge last night?" he asked.

"Groosalugg said something."

"Like what?"

"He knew about Michael and asked if I killed him. I said no. He said then there was nothing better I could do. I didn't kill him, so I didn't betray him. And he's right. I made a choice. The choice."

Angel inhaled, "You were rambling about a choice this morning."

She tensed slightly, "Long story."

"I've got time. I don't feel like heading back until the sun goes down," he said lightly.

Hope inhaled, "The first time around, Michael and I fought Angelus at Jerusalem. He was trying to open all the Hellmouths and gain an army."

"Not good."

"Michael tackled him. I tried to come up from behind with a stake. Angelus grabbed me by the neck and pinned Michael. He stabbed him. I was left with a choice. Save Michael or kill Angelus."

"Either way, you would've felt guilty," Angel said knowingly.

"I chose Michael and all Hell broke loose. We lost the war because I saved him instead of keeping my mind on the priority. When I was in that temple…" she sobbed once, "…he told me I wouldn't have to make the choice. He promised me I wouldn't have to. But things went wrong. And I didn't choose him."

Angel felt tears soak his pant leg. Still, he kept a gentle hold on her; he tried to comfort her.

"I chose you," she finished.

He looked down at her, "What?"

She tilted her head to see his face, his eyes, "It wasn't Michael or the world. It was Michael or you. I wasn't thinking about the world or anyone else. I chose you because I knew you would suffer if I chose to save him. I knew what would happen. Michael left because I chose to rescue you from a fall. That one decision made our world change. He left because I saved your life in lieu of his. I couldn't bear to think of you leaving me, in any way, because I chose him," she admitted quietly, her face almost dry.

He eyed her for a moment, knowing now just how heavy the battle at the temple was weighing on her, "Hope…why didn't you tell me?"

She looked away, "I love you too much. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to make you feel guilty."

He sighed heavily and wrapped his arms around her and lifted her slightly. With most of her body over his, leaning on his, he was her shadow and just held her. Her head leaned back onto his chest and he lifted his knees to make a shield around her as she sat between his legs. He crossed his arms over her chest and felt her heartbeat under one of his palms.

He kissed her on the cheek, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" she asked childishly.

He nodded and sighed heavily, "I promise."

She seemed content for a moment, "Do you remember the first time we had each other?" he asked randomly.

He found he wasn't blushing at her mention of it, "How could I not?"

"Things were easier then. For everyone."

"Maybe."

"I actually felt important back then," she continued.

"You're still important."

"Maybe. But I don't feel it. I can't feel that way."

Angel inhaled deeply, "Have you thought about talking to the Old One?"

She paused, "I don't know. Things are still so muddled. On top of last week and the week before that and the week before that _and_ the week before that…I don't know if I can trust Him. I almost want to blame Him for Michael's death. Just because I wasn't connected with him doesn't mean Michael wasn't."

"But you had the stronger connection, didn't you? You were the final product," Angel asked, sure he was right.

She nodded tiredly, "Yeah."

"Listen to me: the guilt and the pain isn't going to go away over night. It takes time. But I'm here for you."

She snuggled against his chest, "I know. Thank you."

He kissed her on the forehead, "It's what I'm here for. Oh, and we have a bit of a problem."

"What?"

* * *

Wesley, Gunn, Lorne and Groosalugg looked up as Hope and Angel walked in from the basement door. Sunset wasn't for another hour or so. Gunn quickly turned off the television so the repeating broadcast of a wanted Hope wasn't playing.

Hope sighed and walked up to her room, coming back out a moment later. In her hands was an old tome full of mystical secrets and such. The Higher Light was her only link to the strength she once had. Now it would be her only chance at figuring out what was going on.

"A bedtime story?" Gunn asked sarcastically.

Hope laid it down on the counter and started to flip through the pages, "Angel told me about my kleptomania."

Wesley smiled gently. Gunn and Groo just eyed her unsurely. She caught their odd stares and thought quick, "Compulsive stealing," she added.

Gunn nodded, "Knew that," he said in machismo.

"What is this?" Wesley asked, taking interest in the ancient book.

"Inanimate version of the Record Keeper. If someone is pulling off a glamour with me as the glammed, this should tell us how to undo it and bring about the real klepto."

"Do you need help with the text?" Wesley asked, seeing it was mostly in non-human writing.

"No. I can deal. It'll just take me some time," she answered, already looking into a specific chapter of the tome.

"Meantime, I want to lay out the game plan for tonight. Hope is going to stay behind and decipher what she can about the glamour. Gunn, Groo, Wes and I will hit the streets again to see if anything else comes up. Lorne, use all of your old contacts to see if any new evil is in town trying to gain some power."

Hope looked up from the tome quickly, _I don't want to be left alone,_ she said pleadingly.

Angel took that in and looked the Groosalugg. He knew that, aside form himself, Groo was the strongest one they had. If Hope felt insecure, Groo was the safest one to be around.

"On second thought, Groo will stay here with Hope in case this robber tries anything on us."

Wesley seemed taken aback, "He's one of the strongest fighters we have, Angel. Doesn't it make sense of him to come with—"

"He needs to be here. Hope's not up to par. I want someone here who can help her out if anything goes wrong," he said blatantly.

_No offense_, he added.

_None taken,_ he caught a smile on her face before she looked back to the tome.

A cell phone rang. Gunn picked it up and started the company slogan. He turned to look at Hope with the phone outstretched, "It's for you."

Hope assumed she knew who it was. She got on the phone and heard Willy's voice. She skipped the pleasantries he offered her and sighed, "Do you have anything for me?" she asked, knowing it was unlikely.

He told her and she thanked him. She hung up the phone and looked back to the others, "I think you should hit the snitch I helped out last night. His shipment is already in and half the undead in town know about it. There'll be a big crowd," she finished, looking at Angel.

"Who is he?" Angel asked.

"Willy."

"Willy?"

"Yeah. From Sunnydale. Remember, you beat him up a few times?" she added with a grin.

"When did he come to L.A.?"

"A few months ago. He stayed low. He knew you were around," she continued.

Angel seemed somewhat cheery, "Well, then I guess he'll be our first stop."

Hope smiled at his enthusiasm. And, when he smiled back, she felt her shoulders stop being tense and her pulse race. She turned back to her book and felt him sidle up next to her. He wrapped one arm around her front side at her clavicle and the other at her waist. He nuzzled her neck as she tried to look through the pages.

_Kiss me_, he demanded.

She tried to seem nonchalant, _I have work to do._

_It can wait._

_Hmm, but you'll be back tonight_, she said suggestively.

He spun her on the barstool to face her and cocked an eyebrow, _Just to tie me over until then?_ he said as he kissed her full on the lips.

She gave in for a moment, then turned and went back to her research. Lorne got on the telephone and started calling his old contacts from back when he own Caritas. Gunn took out a few stakes and sharpened them. Finishing those, he moved on to a favorite battle-axe. Wesley was looking through page after page of information on glamours and mystical ingredients needed to use them. Angel, in the background, remembered again why he hated waiting for something to happen.

Hope sighed heavily and snapped the tome shut violently. Angel eyed her, "Problem?"

"There's nothing in here about glamours. Nothing!" she raised her voice in exasperation. He turned to look at Angel, "This thing is supposed to be—" she cut herself off and looked back at the book.

Angel saw her face turn pale and her eyes full of fear. He looked between her and the book, "What?"

She ran her fingers across the cover and examined it meticulously, "This isn't the Higher Light," she said, aghast.

"What?" Gunn asked, looking up at that.

Hope swallowed hard, "Parts of it have been taken," Hope continued.

"What parts?" Wesley came closer.

"The parts we need. Glamours…historical contexts…spells and rituals…metaphysical ingredients…all the things we need are gone," she said, still in shock.

"How can that be? No one uses this book except you," Angel said, knowing even she almost never pulled it out.

Hope opened to the page where the glamours should have been. The spine showed where the pages had been ripped out, "I'm officially freaked out," she whispered.

"This is your personal volume," Wesley said; he remembered her bringing it out to show them the Fedoins.

"Who would know how to get this?"

Hope closed the book, "The same person who's using that glamour and robbing the stores," she said smartly.

* * *

Sitting at a little table, Drusilla looked over the instrument that would be used once he came out to play. She held the dead kitten in her arms and still stroked its back. She lifted it to eye level and watched it flop ungracefully, its head lolling to one side.

"Perk up, Apollo. I'll give you a treat if you do," she said to the little kitten.

When it did nothing despite her command, she looked to her side at the vampire standing next to her, "Go now. Apollo doesn't want to play. I want another one. Be a good boy and get me another one," she tossed the deceased kitten at him.

The vampire caught it reflexively and looked up at Drusilla, "Why?" he asked.

In a moment, Drusilla's demeanor changed. She stood from her seat and approached the vampire. He swallowed hard in apprehension. She cocked her head to one side and eyed him dangerously.

"You. Question me. Bad baby."

"I'm sorry," he apologized quickly.

Her hand flashed forward and impaled his eyes. He dropped the kitten and fell to his knees screaming. Dru just stared ahead and look at his eyeballs on her fingers. Flicking them off, she scooped the kitten back up in her arms and started to stroke its back again.

"There there, Apollo. I won't leave you again," she promised with a demented smile.

She walked off while the vampire continued to scream in pain at the loss of his sight. She spared him a glance, "Hush now, baby. They'll grow back."

* * *

Hope shook her head free from the blur that had come over her eyes from staring too long at the Higher Light. She rubbed one eye and took some pride that the blurriness cleared. She turned the page and wished beyond imagination that the pages she really wanted would magickally reappear. But, no joy. Propping her chin on her hand and her elbow on the counter, she flipped through the book with her still-sore and still-fractured wrist. She heard the scraping of metal on metal and turned to see the guys pulling out some small-enough-to-be-hidden weapons.

Angel tucked the dagger into his concealed pocket on his duster and looked to Hope and Groo, "We'll be back as soon as we can," he assured them.

"Fear not, friend," Groo smiled heartily.

Angel smiled at that and took a step closer to Hope, "Will you be all right?" he asked confidentially.

She nodded once, "No worries. Groo's here. I'll be fine."

"Because I can stay if you…"

"No. Go on. Do your job," she smiled warmly at him.

The vision of a night to come with her flashed before Angel's eyes. He found he desperately wanted to take solace in her and let her take comfort with him. That alone motivated him to get back as soon as he could without skimping on his job. He kissed her once and then left with the others. Lorne took off on his own to see what he could find out. Angel, Wesley and Gunn were off to see Willy and see what they could dig up on the underworld.

* * *

Angel led the way into the below-ground bar and saw the announced crowd was mostly vampires. He could smell the intoxicating and fresh supply Willy had spoken of. The three of them looked around and saw open seats at the end of the bar. Willy saw them and saw Angel at the front. The bartender visibly tensed and swallowed hard. In the crowd, Angel could sniff out the fear and the uncertainty. He led the way to the far end of the bar and the three of them sat down. As they did, Willy walked up to them bearing drinks.

"Wow, Angel. Didn't think I'd ever see you again," he said shakily.

"Same here, Willy."

"Hope send you out here?" he asked nervously.

"She did."

"Well, you can tell her I got the supply in. I spent extra bucks getting the word out so the supply would come back in," he said, trying to sound like the hero of the piece. He leaned in confidentially, "So, uh, it is true that you and she are—" he cocked an eyebrow.

Angel resisted the impulse to strangle him and cause a scene. But, then he didn't care. He grabbed the bartender by the neck and pulled him close, "You have a problem with us?" he asked dangerously, keeping his face directly in Willy's.

"No, no, no! Impressed, really."

Angel let him go.

"I mean, no one saw it coming. Goddess and a vamp like you? Major news in the underworld."

Angel absorbed that and then leaned back and away from Willy, "Have you heard anything?" he asked.

"A few things. I'm not exactly sure what your chick wants, but I can tell you what I've heard so far."

"And?" Angel prompted.

"Huge nest on forty-fifth and Broadway. A few dozen stragglers from the whole Pogrom deal are camped out there," Willy said confidentially.

"That was the nest we hit the other night," Wesley spoke up.

"Yeah, but more have moved in," Willy added quickly.

"Why?" Gunn asked.

"Some big vamp is in town. I didn't get the name," he apologized.

Angel sighed, "Anything else?"

"Uh, yeah. All those robberies…this ring-vamp is the one pullin' 'em off."

Angel took that in and nodded, "Okay. I guess I don't have to throttle you then. Shame," he leaned in a bit, "I was really looking forward to it."

Willy smiled nervously, "Throttle me all you want, man. But make sure Hope knows I delivered. Do that for me, will you?" he asked.

Angel almost smiled, "You're more afraid of her, aren't you?" he lowered his voice.

Willy swallowed, "Don't take it personal, Angel. You're tough stuff and all. But Hope…she's hardcore."

Angel stood from the stool after taking a sip from the drink Willy had brought him, "I'll be sure to mention that to her."

* * *

Hope tugged at the string and sighed when it snapped. She threw the project aside; she should've known better than to mend her own clothes. Unable to do it mentally, she would have to settle for a professional job. She wished she hadn't worn her duster last night. There wouldn't be a gaping hole in the shoulder if she hadn't. She stood and walked over to the coffee pot and poured out the coffee. She put more water into the reservoir and waited for it to heat up so she could make tea.

She looked at Groo. He was lost in meditation. Holding Angel's broadsword in a defensive position, he had been standing there for almost an hour. He was perfectly still and looked more like a statue than a human—or half-human—being. She smiled to herself and waited on the water to get warm and drip-drizzle out the bottom of the filter. She sighed as she watched the water come out brown. She'd forgotten to take out the coffee rinds. She turned it off, pulled out the loaded filter and dumped it, and started to pour the water out.

She dropped the pot.

Groo dropped the sword at her evident struggle to remain conscious and was at her side, bracing her as she shuddered and flailed.

"Hope!" he yelled as she started to convulse.

He let her onto the tile floor gently and held her steady, trying to think of what to do. As soon as she'd lost control, she regained it and sat up. He still held her steady as she inhaled deeply and tried to remain calm.

"Hope?" he asked again.

"We need to get to Angel," she said suddenly.

* * *

Wesley and Gunn pulled out the weapons they'd brought in case of an event like this. Angel was just eyeing the building they'd cleared out the other night.

"Are you sure this is right? Kinda dumb to set up shop here," Gunn said quietly.

"Not exactly. They figure we've already cleaned this place up and won't come here again," Wesley said simply, handing a broadsword to Angel.

Angel took it, "We get in, kill them, and get out."

"In kinda a hurry, aren't'cha?" Gunn noticed.

Angel looked at him over his shoulder, "You would be, too," he said knowing Gunn would put two and two together.

Gunn clamped his mouth shut and nodded once in acceptance and understanding. As the three of them started toward the doors of the abandoned building, they each readied their weapons.

* * *

Hope ran through the security scanner even though it went off. Not caring at the attention she and Groo were attracting, she threw herself over the bar and took Willy by the collar.

"Whoa, whoa! I didn't do anything!" he squealed.

"Where did you send them?" Hope asked harshly, shaking him once to get the point across.

"Who?"

"Angel! Where did you send Angel?" she asked loudly.

The patrons closest to the struggle backed away. Groosalugg let them go and just kept an eye on Hope and the snitch.

"Vamp nest on Forty-fifth and Broadway!" he choked out as Hope tightened his collar.

She released him violently and walked out from behind the bar, "Come on," she looked to Groo. As she walked back through the security scanner and as it went off again, she punched the metal keypad next to it and shut it off. She cursed at herself inwardly for hurting her already hurt wrist, and then continued on at a fast run to get to Angel. She knew the crossroads wasn't far and she could only hope she would get there in time.

She saw Angel, Gunn and Wesley about to stalk around to the back of the building and she picked up the pace. Groo was still right next to her.

Angel heard her fast footfalls and turned to look at her. His brow furrowed. Thankful she had stopped him out of mere curiosity, she slowed down.

"Hope?" he asked.

She just passed him and eyed the building. She could feel something was wrong inside of it.

"Hope?" Angel asked again.

She didn't acknowledge him, only remained steadfastly intent on the warehouse.

Angel walked over to her, "Hope?" he asked putting a hand on her shoulder.

"There's something different," she said simply.

"How different?" Gunn asked.

"I can't put my finger on it. But I had a vision."

"Listen, why don't you go back to the hotel with Wesley and Groo," Angel suggested.

Quickly, Hope turned to look at him, "Don't do this," she begged.

He eyed her unsurely, "I'll be okay."

She put her hands on his chest in desperation, "Please don't do this," she asked again.

He took her arms in his hands and held her away from him for a moment, "I have to."

She shook her head, "No, you don't. Please. Don't fight."

As much as he trusted her instincts, his own didn't tell him that anything was out of the ordinary. He sighed, "I'll meet you back at the hotel, okay?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he started to walk off.

Hope stood there, immobile for a moment. With a sudden conviction, she turned to look at him as he walked away.

"I lost Michael. I don't want to lose you, too," she said almost inaudibly.

Angel stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. Gunn stopped too and knew that plea had hit home. They both saw her eyes tear up as she waited for anything that would show she had made it through to him.

Awkward as they were, Wesley and Groo just stood there, unsure of what to expect or what to think. Angel looked at Wesley for a moment. Wesley knew the struggle that was running inside of the vampire's mind. To leave Hope would be to ignore her pain and make it worse. To leave the vampires to run free would mean innocents might die.

Angel exhaled deeply and walked back towards her, Gunn following. A visible wave of relief washed over Hope as she saw him come closer.

He put his hand on her cheek and looked deep into her eyes, "I'm not going anywhere," he promised, "But I can't let them roam free," he added softly.

Hope's relief was pulled away on a tide. Before he could change his mind, Angel turned and briskly walked away, not looking back. Gunn eyed Hope for a moment and then followed, feeling the same tear in his loyalties.

Groo walked up to Hope and touched her elbow. Hope whipped around with tears in her eyes.

"Please come. We will wait at the hotel," Groo said quietly.

Hope looked over her shoulder at Angel and then at Gunn. She could feel the evil coming from that building. She knew it would be the beginning of something terrible if they fought. But she couldn't deny that Angel, cold as he was, was right. The people on the streets needed to have protection. A large cadre could do serious damage if they put their mind to it. She nodded once and looked back to Groo. The three of them started to walk away from the scene.

* * *

Gunn watched Angel as the vampire sulked away faster than he usually did. Gunn looked over his shoulder to see Groo and Wesley helping Hope away from the alley.

"Is she leaving?" Angel asked, his voice shaky.

Gunn looked back at him, "Yeah. Heading off."

"I can't believe I just did that," Angel admitted.

"Duty calls."

"Duty to strangers who won't even know what we've done?" Angel asked, walking faster to stay away from his guilt.

Gunn didn't know if there was an answer for that one. He just followed. Angel turned to his right and opened a delivery door.

"Through here."

They walked into the dark factory. Although Gunn couldn't see a thing, he knew Angel could. The vampire was silent and well adapted for this kind of environment. The two of them heard a scuffle on the far side of the warehouse. The muffled screams hit the ears hard and Gunn and Angel ran over to the lighted side of the warehouse to see a couple surrounded by the vampires.

Angel broke off a piece of wood and sighed openly, "It never changes with you people," he said aloud.

The vampires all looked towards him and Gunn, "Trust me, you don't want to get mixed up in this," one assured them.

Gunn shrugged, "Too late for a warning. Oh well."

Gunn and Angel rushed into the oncoming brawl with their weapons ready to go. Most of the vampires ran at Angel, the smaller group at Gunn. Angel was immediately able to dust the first one; he'd left his chest wide open for the blow. Another one jumped onto Angel's back and tried to pull him to the ground. Angel reached over his shoulder and grabbed at the scalp of the vampire and pulled him over and onto the ground. Holding onto his hair, the vampire was an easy target. The other two ran at him at once and he kicked one away while blocking a fist from the other one. One vampire attacked him while his buddy was getting up from the floor. A punch landed and Angel spun with it, swiping his fist at the vamp as he came around. He followed through with his stake and the second vampire fell to dust. He felt a searing pain in his back. He turned around and saw that the vampire he'd kicked away was wearing a set of brass knuckles. As odd as that was, Angel just rolled his eyes and grabbed the vampire by his collar and threw him. The demon landed on a nearby set of crates; the wood splintered and he was dusted instantly. A trio ran at him and Angel took a quick swipe with his sword and took their heads off in a single blow.

Angel looked over to Gunn. The street fighter was finishing off one last vampire. Knowing he could take care of himself, Angel walked over towards the couple only to see that they were gone. He sighed; they'd more or less left during the quick fight. He turned to head back towards Gunn and stepped on a squishy and small body. He looked down and cursed inwardly. The kitten, already dead, had burst upon the pressure and now let blood onto his favorite pair of sneakers. He sighed openly and shook his foot in an effort to get some of the entrails off the sole. He looked around and absentmindedly heard Gunn stake the last vampire. He didn't see anything that would tell them what was happening before they burst in.

He could feel a shiver run down his back and shook it off. He looked around and saw the high ceiling was ready to fall in. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of white and assumed it was a dress. He wasn't sure if the young woman had been wearing a white outfit and dismissed it. He looked back at the kitten and then walked off towards Gunn.

Gunn met him halfway, brushing off some dust, "I think Hope's losing her touch," he admitted.

Angel kept himself from saying anything she wouldn't want him to say, "Young vamps. Didn't even know how to fight," he changed the topic.

"You're bleeding, man," Gunn pointed out.

Angel felt at the place where the last vampire had hit him with the brass knuckles. When he looked at his fingertips, there was blood.

"Vamp had brass knuckles."

Gunn smiled, "That's new."

* * *

Hope paced by the front doors, waiting. Wesley and Groosalugg watched her nervously. "Where are they?" Hope asked no one in particular.

"It's only been fifteen minutes since we got back," Wesley reminded her.

"Yes. I am sure Angel and Charles are fine. They are brave warriors," Groo said soothingly.

She eyed him, "Don't tell me what they are or how they are!"

Wesley and Groo exchanged a glance. Hope just eyed them, knowing she'd snapped but not caring. Angel was still out there and she couldn't feel his mind to assure her that everything was okay. In her book, being almost powerless and still getting twinges of premonitions was none too comforting.

The doors opened. Angel and Gunn walked in. Hope forgot about everything else and sprinted to the stairs to meet Angel. She sighed in relief.

"You're back," she smiled.

Angel smiled at her genuine concern, "No problem," he assured her.

"Only a few vamps. Lame ones, at that," Gunn added.

Hope's brow furrowed, "You're bleeding."

Angel straightened, unsure of how she could tell. He'd washed the blood away before coming back, hoping to hide the minor injury from her.

She recognized his confused face, "I can still smell it," Hope looked around at the awkward group and sighed, "Well, if you don't mind, I'm heading off to bed."

"Do you want me to drive you to the penthouse?" Angel asked.

"No. I'll stay here tonight," she said simply.

Angel watched her go and knew that things had happened while he was gone. The way she wanted to get away from everyone and the way Groosalugg and Wesley were eyeing her…something had happened that she didn't want to deal with until morning.

"So, you take care of the pest problem?" Wesley asked, trying to sound lively.

Gunn smiled, "Sure did. Nothing but oversized mosquitoes," he said. He looked to Angel, "No offense," he said as an afterthought.

* * *

Hope didn't go to her own room. She wanted to be in Angel's room. Hope wanted to cry. She wanted to hit something and grind it into a pulp. Most of all, she wanted to be with Angel. She didn't care that she wasn't at full strength. She'd contained his soul the first time; that time had been at less than full strength. She knew she could do it again so long as things didn't get out of hand. But it had to be awkward for Groo to know she and Angel were in a relationship. He'd left because he knew Cordelia had feelings for Angel. To see Angel with someone else and to see Cordelia in a coma was a bad combination in any language.

She stripped down and pulled on a warm set of lounge pants that belonged to Angel. She went through his drawers and pulled on a button down shirt. She eyed the overly long sleeves. She'd only started wearing his clothing. After the fight with the Pogroms, in the sewer, he'd put his shirt on her. She'd never before had a man's shirt on her. And something about it called to her and made it desirable.

Pulling her hands through, she moved to his kitchenette and sorted through his fridge. There was some pigs' blood and a few soda cans that he kept in the room for her. She took out a takeout pint of blood and poured herself a small amount. She knew he wouldn't mind. He'd rather have her drink this than the vampires outside. Coming to the topic, Hope realized she hadn't taken a drink of a vampire since the fight. Not that she'd had much of a chance. Gunn, Angel and Wesley handled the few renegade vampires that showed up after the Pogroms retreated. Hope didn't fight with them. She didn't trust herself to. She didn't know if she could fight as well as she used to.

The blood was cold and oddly refreshing. It was better than the tea she'd left downstairs. She finished the small snack and put the container back and rinsed out the mug. As she put it in the strainer, Angel walked in and sighed.

"Snack time?" he asked, moving to the bed and sitting on the corner.

She nodded, "Just a little something before bed." Hope smiled, wandering over to him. She sat on his lap suggestively and took his face in her hands. She could feel a strange warmth coming from his skin. For the first time in all their contact, he felt warm to the touch. Still, her impassioned mind didn't want to deal with his warmth. She wanted him, his love.

He looked at her unsurely, "Hope…"

She planted a kiss on his lips to keep him from speaking, "Shh," she whispered softly.

She kissed him again and let her lips trail down his neck. She could feel his hands on her back, holding her closer to him. As the events to come dawned on him, he held her tighter, kissing her forcefully and turning to push her down on the bed. He ran a hand under the loose shirt on her and felt her wrap her legs around his waist. One of her hands grabbed at his neck, keeping his mouth on her skin.

With a quick burst of passion, she rolled and switched places. Sitting on his waist, she slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his chest. She leaned over and kissed his pecs. She heard the familiar crunch of morphing bones and skin and looked up to see his vampiric face staring back at her. She smiled, kissing him on the lips. He sat up and made her sit up, too. Her chest and his unbearably close, he ripped his own shirt on her open. She gasped in surprise and ran her fingers through his hair as he trailed his fangs across the side of her neck and ran his hands down her chest.

"Angel…" she whimpered.

He pulled back and looked at her, waiting.

"I love you."

He smiled warmly, his face changing back into a human appearance. She kissed him again.

* * *

Everything was still. Hope looked around and smiled. Everything, for the time being, was perfectly still. Oh, so perfectly still. She stepped closer to the edge of the path and looked down at the scene below. Down there wasn't still. People died and demons ran loose. She watched apathetically as the ones she cared about fought for their lives. The odds weren't in their favor. One by one, they were cut down. The demons ate their flesh, tore them apart. One by one. She walked on, not caring as screams reached her ears. The pathway stopped suddenly and Hope was left facing Angel. He smiled at her demonically. His lips were lined in blood. Somehow she knew it was the blood of another friend.

"You drank," she stated the obvious.

"You told me to do it," he smiled.

She remained calmed, albeit confused, "No. You're lying."

He came closer to her, running his dirty hands across her silken clean skin, "You just don't want to believe. But you know it was you," he whispered to her.

"I don't remember," she said apologetically.

Standing behind her, he pulled her hair from her neck, "I'll make you."

He sank his teeth into her. She just stood there and allowed it, feeling her consciousness slip away. Ahead of her, she saw Michael. He was obviously dead and gone; his spirit stood for her to see.

"I told you he would betray you," Michael said simply, sorrowfully.

Still not resisting her death, she eyed him, "I know."

"He'll kill all of us once you're gone, Hope."

"I'm sorry," was all she said back.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The demon eyed Michael and sighed, "You waste your time," he said as the demigod kept a close eye on the sleeping Hope. He had just eyed her for hours since she and Angel had slept together. Angel, too, was sleeping peacefully.

"Not at all," Michael said back.

"You plan to watch them to death?" the demon quipped.

"I'll work my way up."

"Unless that's an add-on to your wonderful plan, I doubt very much that this will slow her down."

Michael turned his back on Hope and Angel and eyed the demon, "Oh, I have much bigger and better plans for the two of them. I don't want them to die. I want them to suffer."

* * *

Wesley looked up from his large volume to see a shaky and obviously disturbed Hope. Her hands were wrapped around her chest tight and insecure-like. He eyed her for a moment as she wandered farther down the stairs to the lobby floor and looked around continuously.

"Hope?" he finally asked.

She looked at him and licked her lips, "Where is everyone?"

"Out."

"You didn't, by any chance, see Angel, did you?" she asked.

"He left first thing this morning. Why?"

Hope tensed somewhat and walked closer, "Did he say anything to you?"

"Nothing. He just headed for the sewers."

Hope nodded once and sighed, "Okay, thanks."

"We can try calling him if you'd like to speak with him," Wes suggested.

She started to walk away, "No, it's nothing important."

Although not a psychic, Wesley knew something was bothering her. He knew Angel would go up and see to her, make sure she was as fine as she could be at a time like this. He sighed heavily and walked upstairs to the room Hope had secluded herself in. Wesley walked in without waiting for, or asking for, an invitation. He saw Hope looking out the window and into the alleyway beneath. He closed the door without much thought as to the noise it made.

Hope turned quickly to see him, "Hi," she said simply.

"I was hoping we could talk," he asked gently. He took a step closer to her and looked out the window with her, but a step behind her still, "You seemed distraught just now, even before I spoke with you."

Hope bit her lip, "I thought he would be next to me when I woke up," she said simply, hoping not to have to explain.

Wesley's face registered understanding, "I could see where that could be disturbing. But I wouldn't worry."

She turned to face him, "I had sex with him, Wesley. I didn't just lie in his bed," she said pointedly.

"Oh. And you think his not being there is a problem?"

"What if I triggered him? Angelus?"

Wesley shook his head, "I have faith that you kept control of the curse."

"You shouldn't."

"Why?"

"I don't remember stopping it. Every other time, I have to make a conscious effort to stop it from happening. I don't remember doing that last night," she admitted.

Wesley's eyes widened slightly.

"Did you talk to him at all this morning?" Hope asked.

Wesley shook his head, "He didn't say anything. He only walked out."

"Did he seem…upset or anything…even happy?"

"Nothing. He just walked out," at Hope's fearful face, he tried to seem confident, "I'm sure he just feels guilty."

Hope's brow furrowed, "What?"

"Well, it is possible that he feels as though he took advantage of you. You obviously haven't been up to par recently…not to mention the death of Michael. He could just be guilty."

Hope nodded, "You're right. He's just walked out because of that. It doesn't mean anything. He's still Angel."

"In any case, I'll tell Gunn so we have some defense should I be wrong," Wesley said, leaving her alone.

She stared out the window again and sighed, knowing that, if Angel had lost his soul, things would go horribly wrong until the Ritual of Restoration could be done. And, to find someone besides her to be that powerful, it would be difficult to pull off. Angelus would, no doubt, exploit his knowledge about her current condition. But, she had to hope that her mind was still capable of feeling his soul and alerting her the moment it was pulled from the earthly plane. As of now, her mind hadn't set off any warnings.

Hope paced her room, trying to keep herself busy so that the absence of Angel wouldn't weigh heavy on her mind. As she paced, she nicked her foot on the bed frame leg and winced in pain. As she looked down, she saw the box that contained her Callers. She licked her lips, forgetting that they'd been here since Angel and his team had used them to bring her back from Hell. She bent over to take them out and just eyed the closed box for a moment.

She didn't want to bring Him back into her life. The emotional turmoil from the First was not forgotten; she still blamed Him for all of that. But she needed to know what was happening. She needed to know what she could do. But that nagging, distrustful part of her wanted to throw the box back under the bed and leave it there for a longer time.

She spasmodically opened the box and saw the Callers wrapped in tissue paper. They brought a small smile to her face. They vibrated with power; she could feel it against the lack of her own. She touched the central one and took a calm as the power inside it reverberated inside her. She knelt on the floor and took them out, one by one and laid them in the formation she'd become so accustomed to. She spoke the souls into them and stood back in unaccustomed shock as they started to glow and take on the life she gave them. She watched as He appeared in front of her. The two of them just stared at one another for a moment. He broke the silence.

"You called?" He asked simply.

She inhaled deeply, unsure what to say, "Don't pretend like all of that didn't happen," she scolded, "And don't pretend that everything's fine between us because it's not."

He eyed her, "Then why call on me?"

"Because I'm worried about Angel. I need You to help me out here."

"With Angel?" He asked.

Hope nodded, "Just with Angel. I don't want any other help. I don't need it and I won't take it. Just tell me if Angel still has his soul."

The Old One nodded, "He does."

Hope sighed in relief.

"Is that all?" He asked.

There was a pause. Hope looked at him and then at the floor, "I'm not getting any more back, am I?" she asked.

He shook His head, "Only time spent among us will restore your full grace. On this plane, I'm afraid not."

She nodded, accepting that, "Thank You, Old One."

He took her chin in His hand and smiled lovingly, "You are brave, Young One. Don't let anything lead you to believe otherwise," he said, then disappeared in a burst of light.

Hope stood there for a moment and just let everything sink in. She would go downstairs and tell the others that Angel indeed had a soul. But, part of her was too depressed to face any of them. She had always hoped that more of her natural grace would eventually come back to her. But she knew now that it wouldn't. She wasn't going to get some sudden and welcomed burst of power in a day or a week. This was it. What she'd worked for and all she had left. All in all, it gave her little consolation.

She placed the Callers back where they belonged and started towards the door. She wanted to dispel the panic as soon as she could. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, her footsteps alerted those downstairs to her presence and Gunn, Groosalugg and Wesley looked up to her.

She saw Angel at the basement entrance coming in and just stared at him. Some part of her feelings ran into him. He rushed over to her.

"Hope? Are you all right?" he asked.

With a clenched jaw, she punched him.

Even at her lessened strength, he tumbled backwards and down the stairs he'd ascended to get to her. He rolled with it and stood to face her.

All of her worries gone, she approached him angrily, "How dare you do that to me!" she said sternly.

"What?" he asked, his jaw hurting him.

"I woke up and you weren't there!" she raised her voice.

Realization came over his face and he sighed, "Oh. I—I'm so sorry. I forgot."

She smiled indignantly, "You _forgot_?" she rasped.

"I didn't think. I didn't think about that."

"And what, may I ask, was so important for you to give me a heart attack, huh?" she asked harshly.

"I went to Willy's," he said truthfully, "I wanted to see if he got anything else after we left last night."

Hope just eyed him, still seething. But, her anger started to fade and she loosened up.

"I really am sorry. If I knew that it would scare you—"

"Scared?" she cut him off, "I wasn't scared. I was terrified! Thinking that you had become Angelus and were out killing anything you could get your hands on, I was terrified!"

"I'm sorry."

She sighed again and crossed her arms over her chest, "It's over. Don't worry about it," she said forcedly.

"You wanna hear what I got?" he asked hopefully.

She couldn't help but smile at that and followed him to the counter while he took out a neatly folded piece of paper from his pocket, "This is what Willy wrote down," he said, sitting on a barstool and unfolding the paper so the others could se it.

She eyed it and cocked an eyebrow, "Ennelsit?" she heard Gunn ask, pronouncing the main word on the paper wrongly.

"Hennuilsyt. It's pronounced 'annihileset'. Like annihilation," Wesley corrected him.

"What is this?" Groo asked eagerly.

"Powerful mystical ingredient. Extremely versatile," Hope said simply.

"Willy said that word was thrown around a lot after we left," Angel said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Hope eyed him for a moment and then looked to the other words and phrases on the paper, "There must be ten different items here that can be used for anything. They don't give us a clue what the vampires were trying to create," she said tiredly.

"But these must be the other ingredients the vampires stole from the shops."

"Does anything ring a bell, Hope?" Wesley asked.

"Any of these could infuse extreme power into any spell or casting. But they don't combine well. Mixing them is hard for even the most experience witches."

"Could you mix 'em up?" Gunn asked.

Hope sighed, "I could try. But I don't know the amount they have of each. Did Willy say anything else?" she asked, looking to her side to see Angel.

His face was pale—paler than usual. He seemed unfocused. He didn't even register that she was talking to him.

"Angel?" she asked quietly.

He finally looked to her and shook his head, "Just that a lot of the vamps were pissed off at someone—more or less us," he said shakily.

"You okay, man?" Gunn started, "You look kinda sick."

He straightened, "Fine," he looked to Hope, "Does this help at all?" he asked.

She eyed him, knowing something was off, "Yeah. I'll see what I can dig up."

Wesley tore his gaze away from Angel and back to Hope, "What do you need?" he asked.

"We're gonna go through the books you had out yesterday. A few of them have these in them. We'll see if we can't piece together the whole list and find a spell that matches it," she said simply, taking her own worried eyes away from Angel and onto Wesley.

Wesley and Groo went to pull out the books and tomes he'd put away from earlier. The phone rang. Gunn went to answer it.

Hope looked back to Angel, "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

He nodded, "Yeah. Just a little out of it."

She watched his eyes stay unfocused and his clammy skin become wet with perspiration. She put a hand on his shoulder and noticed the same heat she'd felt the night before seep through his clothes, "Why don't you go take a rest. We can handle this," she tried to sound reassuring.

He tried to seem nonchalant, "I'm fine."

She let it rest at that. Gunn smiled as he talked on the phone. Hope heard that it was Winifred. He handed the phone off to Wesley and Wes, too, was happy to be talking to her. She walked over and found herself wanting to speak to her friend. She knew she had never said goodbye the day that Fred left to see her parents. She looked over her shoulder to see Angel still hunched over at the counter. She wished she could figure out what was wrong with him. Wesley said his goodbyes to Fred and handed the phone to Hope.

"Hi," Hope said simply.

"Hope! Wow, how are ya feeling?" she asked, her Texan accent resurfacing.

Hope sighed, "Some days are harder than others," she said simply, trying to sound optimistic.

"I hope you're not mad at me for not saying bye an'all."

"No, it's fine. Are you enjoying being back home?" she asked, turning to keep an eye on Angel.

* * *

One Fred's side of the line, she smiled and nodded, looking at her parents getting ready for lunch, "Yeah. Just like I remember it," she said, "What about you? Are you doing okay? Really?"

Hope paused for a moment, "I'm getting there. It's hard," she lowered her voice confidentially, "I keep thinking that I'll wake up and it'll all be just a nightmare, you know."

Fred felt her heart go out for the goddess, "I know that feeling. But I'm sure it'll get better," she tried to match Hope's forced optimism.

Hope didn't deny or confirm Fred's thoughts, "So, what have you been doing there?"

"Oh, we're just spending as much time together as we can. I'm seeing some of my school-friends tomorrow and this afternoon."

"That sounds like fun. Are you excited?"

"Yeah. I haven't seen them in heaven-knows-how-long," she exclaimed, looking back at her parents again. They were smiling and already sitting down for the fried chicken and salad lunch. Fred could smell the aroma coming at her, "And I'm going horse-back riding with some of the gal's this aftern—"

The phone audibly dropped on the other end of the line. Fred paused unsurely, "Hello?" she asked, "Hope? Hello?"

She could hear a commotion in the background and felt her own heart start to thump. Hope's voice sounded so far away. She could make out a worried tone and not much else, "Hope? Hello?" she started to hear the panic in her own voice.

Her mother stood and walked over to her, staying close. All Fred could hear was the panic and fear coming from the many friends she had on the other side of the line.

There was another clatter and then Gunn came back on the line, "Fred?"

"Charles? What happened?" she asked worriedly.

"Not sure. We'll call you back when we know," he sounded as afraid and confused as Fred did.

"Wait, what's happening?" she yelled desperately, trying to get him to talk to her.

"Something with Angel. I gotta go!" he said quickly, then hung up the phone.

Fred tore it away from her face and looked at it for a moment, feeling her heart still beat unbearably fast. Her mother took it from her.

"Fred?" she asked tenderly.

"What's wrong, honey?" her father asked from the kitchen table.

Fred looked at them both in turn, "I don't know. Something's wrong with Angel," was all she could tell them—was all she knew.

* * *

Hope was at Angel's side as soon as she saw him fall from the counter. She didn't care that she dropped the phone or that Fred was hanging on the other end. Angel tried to keep himself focused by looking at her.

"Angel, talk to me," she told him.

Even though he didn't need to, he was breathing fast and deep. His lids were trying to close on his eyes and he fought with them to keep his eyes open. She could feel warmth on his skin from a fever. She took his hand and held it tightly.

She looked at the others, standing there unsurely. They were all looking to her. They were all waiting for orders from her.

"Wesley, get the elevator," she said, slipping her hands under his back and his bent knees.

She knew she wasn't as strong as she once was. But she clenched her teeth and lifted him off the tiled floor. Feeling her back protesting and her shoulder screaming, she looked to those next to her.

"Wet washcloth, cold water, blood," she said through clenched teeth. She saw the elevator doors open and Wesley hold them for her. Taking that first hard-to-do step, she moved closer to the elevator.

As she rode it up to the third floor, she could feel the heat coming from Angel's body as it threatened to sear her own skin. She tried to lean back so most of his weight wouldn't be on her arms and pulling on her wounded shoulder. She saw Wesley eyeing her worriedly.

"Do you have him?" he asked, watching her shift to keep from dropping him.

She couldn't speak, only nod. The doors opened and she started walking to his room. Not caring that the thrown-off clothes from the night before hadn't been cleaned up, she walked past the kitchenette and into his bedroom. She gladly put him down on the bed and felt her pain lessen in her shoulder. He was shivering and Wesley walked over to the bathroom to get what supplies he could. A moment later, Gunn, Groosalugg and Lorne came in. They didn't even notice the clothes.

Groo handed her a small basin-worth of cold water and the washcloth that went with it. She looked to Lorne, "Take off his socks and shoes," she demanded.

He didn't question her, only did as he was told. Hope dunked the washcloth into the water and pressed it against Angel's forehead.

Gunn, Wesley and Groo saw steam come from the contact.

"He's burning up," Gunn said.

Hope cocked an eyebrow, "You noticed that?" she asked sarcastically. She turned to Groo, "Go back downstairs, get some ice. Gunn, help him. We need to cool him down."

"Isn't a fever a good thing? Doesn't that mean his body is fighting whatever's in his system?" Gunn asked as Groo left.

Hope kept dousing his forehead with the washcloth, "If a vampire's internal temperature reaches 122° Celsius, they combust," she said simply, trying to keep the worry out of her voice.

"That means he's already at 100° Celsius," Wesley added, knowing that was why the water was steaming upon contact with his skin.

"So, ice!" Hope said, seeing that Gunn was still standing there in shock.

"What would make his temperature jump like that?" Wesley asked.

Hope shook her head, seeing his convulse from the pain inside. She'd seen vampires hit that fatal temperature before—she'd usually started the fever that burned their insides and then finally their outsides, "I don't know. When we…his skin was warm last night. I never gave it much thought. Get a tranquilizer dart," she said, switching the subject.

Wesley eyed her, "What?"

Hope knew he had never heard of anything like this happening, "His organs are cooking. He's in pain. We need to sedate him," she said choppily.

Wesley registered that and left the room. Lorne walked up to her and she handed him the washcloth, "Keep dabbing his forehead."

She moved to the other side of the bed and pulled his shirt up from being tucked into his pants. Starting at the bottom and feeling the heat hurting her palms, she started unbuttoning his shirt. His chest was rising and falling as he tried to bring in cool air to stop the pain. Hope endured the pain and rolled him onto his side to take his shirt off. As she pulled it away from his back, she saw four circular, purple wounds. The skin around them was not only purple, but also burnt almost to a crisp.

"What do you make of these?" she asked Lorne.

He shook his head and leaned over to see the wounds while still keeping his forehead wet, "I'm lost, pumpkin," he admitted.

She looked at the wounds and heard Gunn and Groo come back with a cooler full of ice and some plastic baggies. Wesley walked in a moment later.

She looked to Gunn, "He was wounded last night, right?"

"Yeah."

"Here?" she asked, showing him the wounds.

Gunn made a disgusted face, "He was hit with brass knuckles. They must've been spiked," he said, fighting the urge to vomit.

"Start packing the ice around him once I let him onto his back," she said, taking the dart from Wesley.

"That's a high-impact dart. You need to hit him hard to get the tranquilizer into his system," he said as she took it.

She kept him on his side and forcefully jabbed the dart into his upper arm. She eyed his face from behind to see if it took effect. It took a moment, but she watched his eyes droop and his body visibly relaxed. Grateful that she could spare him the pain, she looked at the wound again. She noticed the purple color was running. She dabbed her finger into it and saw the fluid that came away from the wound wasn't blood, but the poison that had gotten into his system.

She touched the tip of her tongue with her finger.

"That's nasty," Gunn retorted as he, Groo and Wesley filled up plastic baggies full of ice.

She let the flavor of it register and then she spat it and the mass of saliva that came up onto the floor. She spat again to make sure it was out of her mouth and watched as it started to burn a hold through the carpet.

"I found our hennuilsyt," she said, reaching around and pulling Angel onto his back.

She took some of the baggies and started to pack them around his neck and chest. Wesley looked at her, "Could you get anything else from that?" he asked, looking at the burnt hole in the carpet.

"No, the hennuilsyt will drown everything else out. I couldn't taste anything."

"Is there a cure?" Groosalugg asked.

Hope shook her head, "We don't know what else is in his system to cure it."

She watched the ice melt quickly and took the washcloth from Lorne to keep dabbing his forehead. She looked to Wesley, "How long will that dart last?" she asked.

"Half hour, maybe a bit more."

"Gunn, do you think the brass knuckles are still at the warehouse?" she asked.

"I can go check it out," he said to her, hearing the subtle desperation in her voice.

"We need to figure out what else is in him so we can cure it."

He nodded, "I'm on it," he said, turning and walking out of the crowded bedroom.

"Wesley, go with him. It'll take less time if you both search."

The former Watcher nodded and sped up to catch up with Gunn. Lorne and Groosalugg eyed Hope for a moment as she just stared at Angel's relaxed but clammy face. She swallowed hard, the truth of the situation hitting her as her authority was exercised to its limit. She knew Groo and Lorne were waiting for any more orders. They were relying on her.

She licked her lips, "Lorne…get on the phone and call Fred. Let her know what's going on."

"I'll take care of it, Hope," he said sincerely, feeling her pain emanating from her.

"Groo, keep bringing ice up. We're gonna need it," she said tiredly, seeing that the majority of the ice was already gone and being used to cool Angel down.

He nodded, "Of course."

With that, they were both gone and Hope was left to see Angel for herself. She kept putting ice onto his chest and packing it around his neck and torso. It melted slowly, but it was still melting too fast for comfort. She paused and just eyed him as she waited for more ice to come up. She saw her hands and thought things might have changed.

She inhaled deep and put her hands onto his burning skin, trying to ignore the pain the heat was causing her. As the pain intensified, she realized nothing was happening. But she didn't want to accept that. She couldn't. She kept her burning hands on his chest while tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn't let the pain register—all she felt was the helplessness. Nothing but the lack of hope she could offer him. Her jaw clenched, she still kept her hands on his chest.

"Hope!" Groo yelled at her, dropping the cooler of ice.

He tore her hands away from Angel's chest and turned her to look at him. She didn't even feel the pain of her skin being bright red with blood blisters under the surface. She just kept her eyes on Angel.

"You're hands are wounded," he said, taking some of the precious ice and placing it on her palms.

"I can't heal him," she said monotonously.

"Do not blame yourself," he begged of her, wincing at her palms.

She finally looked at Groo, "I can't lose him," she said softly.

Groo just stared into her eyes, seeing the fear and anguish running below them, "You will not lose Angel. We will save him."

She didn't say anything, just sat there on the bedside and looked at Angel's face. Her eyes were bereft of hope and power and her jaw hung slightly ajar in pure defeat. She could barely feel Groo trying to stop the bleeding of her hands. Some of the blood blisters had cracked open and were now pouring out and covering the ice he tried to put on her wounds.

She turned her head to see her palms and watched the blood crawl up the ice since it was already wet from the heat her skin was still exuding. It was amazing to watch. The blood was defying gravity and climbing up the wet ice in little trails like branches.

"You tried," Groo said, understanding what she was trying to do.

"Yeah," she said half-heartedly, "Can you watch him for a moment? I have to talk to Fred," she said simply.

Groo nodded, "Of course."

She walked out of the room and, instead of heading for the stairs, moved down the hall and out of earshot.

She cried.

* * *

Lorne walked up the stairs and towards Angel's room. As he came closer, he heard sniffles and sobs. He knew who it was. Since she'd sung for him once, he could feel her aura. And, feeling it, he knew she needed to be alone. He knew something odd was screwing with the natural flow of her essence, but he didn't know what. Being that he had no real comfort for her, he just walked into Angel's room and saw Groo sitting there by himself while Angel lay on the bed.

Groo looked at his fellow Pylean, "Did Hope speak with Winifred?" he asked.

Lorne shook his head, "No. She never came down."

"She said she was going to speak with our friend," Groo said with a furrowed brow.

"She's taking some alone time. I think we should just let her be," Lorne said knowingly.

"She tried to heal Angel. She did not succeed," Groo explained.

Lorne sighed, "That'll do it."

* * *

Wesley and Gunn looked at each other tiredly. Gunn kicked a metal can that was lying on the floor. The sudden noise made a cat scatter. Wesley felt the same frustration but controlled it better and denied himself the chance to kick the can as it came closer to him.

"We've been looking forever, man," Gunn sighed, looking at his watch.

"Are you sure the vampire didn't throw them somewhere after he hit Angel?" Wesley asked.

Gunn sighed, "I don't know. I was busy with the vamps that came after me."

Wesley continued to look even as Gunn started to sit down and give up. He came across a spare room that used to be an office. Seeing an empty, new bottle, he kicked the door open. The noise made Gunn look up and then walk over in curiosity. Wesley smiled in achievement.

"Jackpot," he said as Gunn looked over his shoulder.

"Now we're gettin' somewhere."

* * *

Hope collected herself and sighed, leaning her head against the wall. She knew she would have to get back into the swing of being the noble and all-knowing leader. But, hard as it was normally, it was even harder when one wasn't noble and all knowing.

Tiredly, she stood and started to walk back to Angel's room. As she walked through the door, Lorne and Groosalugg looked at her. In one way, she hoped Lorne covered her and said she'd been downstairs talking to Fred the entire time. The other half of her didn't care. There were too many things going on to be the emotional rock. Seeing the clock, she knew Angel would be coming out of his induced sleep soon. Groo stood from the seat and offered it to her. There was silence for a moment. Hope savored it. She needed it after the throbbing headache she'd created from crying.

"Groo, can you go make some tea?" Lorne asked, keeping his eyes trained on Hope.

The former Pylean nodded and left the two alone. Lorne pulled up a chair and sat next to her as she kept her vigil over Angel.

"You don't have to drink it, you know. I just figured you'd like some," he said calmly.

Hope stared at Angel, "I've been drinking blood lately," she said honestly, "It keeps me going better than Earl Grey."

Lorne smiled, "Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked soothingly.

"It's from a container. I don't drink from the source anymore."

"I wasn't talking about that."

"I know."

"So that would be a no?" he asked, leaning back into his own chair to get out of her face.

"What's there to talk about?" she asked him.

"I don't know. But I can tell you that whatever it is screwing with your vibes is starting to mess around with your essence, too."

"Really?" Hope asked disinterestedly.

"Big time."

Still staring ahead, she continued, "Any anagogic advice?"

He put down his sea breeze and hugged her. Hope had never before so craved contact as when he did. It was a simple comfort. In her moment of relief she could feel her pain come back fresh and her eyes started to mist.

She shook free of his friendly embrace, "What is wrong with me?" she asked randomly, vaguely.

He was somewhat taken aback and just eyed her.

She stood madly and wiped a furious arm across the bottom of her eyes to soak up the tears, "God, why can't I stop crying? Why am I like this?"

Lorne felt his heart go out for her, "It's natural to cry."

She straightened defiantly, "Not for me! I am a god! I'm not some pathetic little human. I shouldn't be crying like this!" she yelled.

Lorne could tell he'd inadvertently opened the well of pain she'd been carrying inside of her. Bracing for the flood he knew would follow, he sighed, "You don't have to be a god all the time, sweet cakes."

"Yes, I do! I was chosen for this. He chose me because I was me. I wasn't some stupid little girl. I brought death to the heads of evil beings and they feared me! Dammit, they cowered at my feet. I am _nothing_ now! Nothing. The underworld doesn't respect or fear me anymore."

Lorne tried to smile without angering her more, "Believe me, they still fear you."

"What is wrong with me? I shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't still be grieving. I have _tried_ to get rid of that sight. His body was just _lying_ there and then he was gone and there was nothing and then there was no one to help me and no one to talk to…no one to tell me that I'm still me. And I try and try to get rid of that and then he comes and brings back all the pain again and I tell myself that he's dead that he can't be with me anymore. And I lost him and I _can't_ lose Angel. I love him…I need him to be here for me because I can't handle this anymore," she rambled, her tone switching between sorrow and anger.

"Handle what?"

"This! Being here on this plane and having all of you look to me for help and I can't give it to you anymore. I was powerful and now I'm nothing," she started to slow down, "Nothing."

Lorne watched her slump ungracefully to the floor in final, harsh and undeniable acceptance.

"I'm nothing," she said again with less anger. She just sat there in disbelief and stared at oblivion, "I'm nothing."

Lorne sat next to her and just eyed her for a moment, trying to ignore the waves coming off her and threatening to inundate him, "Hey, listen to me," he gently made her look at him. Her dry eyes were lost and deep, "I know you. I've seen you at your best, cupcake. Your powers don't make you the God. You do. Who you are, what you've been through, how you handle things…those things are what make you a God. And who cares that your mind is too busy to deal the blows you used to? The pain will get better and those powers will be easier to get a hold of. No matter how bad it is now, at least you know those powers are still there," he tried to cheer her up.

She finally focused on him and swallowed hard, trying to keep herself, her real and powerless self, from showing.

But Lorne's face showed what she was trying to hide.

"Oh."

She looked away, ashamed.

"Oh," he repeated.

He put a hand on her shoulder and tried to give her the comfort she needed, "How bad is it?" he asked, trying to put more perspective on her situation.

She licked her lips, "I can materialize a few things. I haven't had the energy left over to do much else. I still have telepathy. Telekinesis if I'm well rested," she answered choppily.

"That's not too bad, right?" he asked nervously.

Hope stood as she saw Angel squirm awake. Lorne stood and stepped up to her side. She looked at him and swallowed hard as Groo started to come towards the bedroom, "Not a word," she demanded.

Lorne ran his finger across his lips to zipper them shut in promise. Content with that, Hope turned her attention back to Angel. He took her hand when she offered it and could barely open his eyes.

"Cordy?" he rasped.

Hope tried not to let that hit her hard and smiled warmly, "No, it's me."

"Hope?" he asked, trying to see her better.

"Yeah. How are you feeling?" she asked, already knowing the answer wasn't 'wonderful'.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, "I've been better."

"Do you want something to drink?" she asked.

After he nodded, Hope looked to Lorne, "Get the blood from the fridge."

He walked away and Hope sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the back of Angel's hot hand, "Just hang in there. Charles and Wesley are working on it."

Lorne came back with the blood and Hope gently wrapped her arms around Angel and lifted him to be at an angle. His eyes opened fully for a moment as he looked at her. She could see only red and the brown of his iris. There was no white to be seen. She opened the container and put it to his lips. Feeling the cold, he sipped at it gingerly.

"That should help," she said, keeping her hand behind his neck to help support his head.

With whatever strength he had, he put a hand to her cheek and kept his bloodshot eyes on her, "I…I don't wa-want you…to feel guilty."

Hope's face blanched and she just stared at him for a second, "You're not dying on me," she said, her own voice quivering with the possibility.

"If I do…it's not your fault," he said choppily, his voice giving out on him.

"No, Gunn and Wes are getting a cure. They're gonna get one and you'll get better, all right?" she stared at him.

He tried to smile, "I know," he inhaled sharply as more pain hit him.

As he passed out in pain, Hope felt cold. She eyed him for a moment more as his body went limp again and his hand dropped from her cheek.

"I made you tea, Hope," Groo said, trying to say anything to break the terrible silence.

Hope turned to look at him and found she was smiling at the completely random comment. She took the tea from him and sipped at it. She sighed as the taste of it ran down her tongue and sent calmness straight to her gut.

"I think we have what we need," Wesley said as he and Gunn walked into the suite.

Hope stood and took her tea with her, grateful for the warmth it gave her palms, "Did you find the brass knuckles?" she asked.

Gunn smiled, "Did better than that."

* * *

"This was everything they had in the storage room. Luckily for us, they're all labeled," Wesley said, eyeing the counter full of bottles, satchels and urns.

Hope looked on with joy and smiled widely, "Okay. Let's get to work. Let's, um, see how much is missing from each container and make me a list of those ingredients that are almost empty at the top, almost full at the bottom. We're gonna need mortars and pestles. Do we have some?" she asked.

"There're a few in the basement," Lorne answered.

"Good. Bring them up here. We're gonna need them. Once we have the list, start looking for spells and potions that use the ingredients in those proportions," she continued.

"We're on it," Gunn promised her.

"We're gonna need a Siren blade," she added.

"A what?" Gunn looked at her askew.

"For sacrifices?" Wesley eyed her unsurely.

"We need it. Get it," Hope said tiredly, "I'll be upstairs."

"We could really use your help down here. Things will go much faster if you catalog the components," Wesley said, trying to catch her attention as she started to walk away.

"I need to be up there with him," she said, still walking away and not paying any mind to his request.

They watched her go and Wesley sighed heavily once she was out of earshot, "So much for divine intervention."

"Just take it easy on her, boys. She's having it rough," Lorne defended her.

"I wish there was a way to make the bad luck she's having stop," Wesley said sincerely.

"She'll get there on her own schedule," Lorne added.


	6. Chapter 5

** Chapter 5**

Hope just eyed Angel as he lay there, helpless and hurting. As much as she wanted to help the others downstairs, she needed to be with Angel. Even if he wasn't awake, she wanted him to know she was there for him. She started to look around and saw the darkening sky. Where had the day gone? How fast had she been thrown into the hell that now surrounded her? She wished the night—

"Not now," she whimpered as her head started to swim and her eyes widened.

* * *

The young man looked at Angel with a passionate scowl, "And through it all, I feltnothing! Sixty years of blood drying in my throat like ashes! So what do you think? Is it me, Chief? Or does everyone you sired feel this way?"

Angel only eyed him and then looked once beyond the young man. Hope followed his gaze to see Gunn, Wesley and Fred tied up by their necks off the ground on rolly-chairs. She looked back to Angel as he spoke, "You're the only one I ever did this to…after I got a soul."

The young man paused, "Do I have one, too?" he asked almost hopefully.

Angel's face fell and he looked away for a moment before returning his concerned eyes to the man, "I don't think it works that way, son," he said apologetically.

The young man considered that, "Didn't think so."

He threw a hard right hand punch at Angel. Hope shuddered as Angel blocked it and missed the one after that. He was thrown onto a large desk. The man rushed him and Angel threw his legs into his gut, shoving him back. The man rolled with it and came up only inches from moving the rolly-chair with Fred on it. He smiled at the closeness, then threw another punch at Angel. Angel caught him in his exposed gut and blocked the hit that came in retaliation. Taking the man by the shoulders, he threw him down away from the threesome.

The young man got onto all fours and eyed Angel, "You gave me just enough, didn't you?" he asked as he stood, "Enough of your soul to keep me trapped between who I was and who I should be. I'm nothin'…because of you," he accused.

His face was twisted in fury as he spoke. Angel just looked at him in apathetic patience. The man lunged and tried to get at Angel. Throwing his grip, Angel landed a hard punch and then threw the man through a window and out into a lobby.

* * *

Hope sat up stiffly and looked around. She'd fallen from her seat in the process of having the vision. She recognized the young man as a sailor from the time of World War II. She couldn't remember his name, but she knew the scene he came from. She'd been so depressed that Angel had sunk that low after his soul was returned to him. The First had arranged that one. She looked around to get a sense of how long she'd been out. No one was at her side so they didn't know about her. She stood up and let the vertigo wash from her eyes. Angel was still passed out, his skin and face clammier than when she'd gone under.

The clock on the wall told she'd been gone for a major part of the night that had descended so quickly. She walked shakily to the door and started to descend the stairs to see the others still absorbed in their work. Lorne noticed her first as smiled warmly.

"Hey, pumpkin."

The others looked up and saw her. Wesley immediately pulled out the list she'd asked for before she went upstairs. As she walked closer to them all with her arms crossed over her chest insecurely, he met her and offered her the list.

She didn't take it, just kept walking past him and sitting at the counter while rubbing the back of her neck. Wesley eyed her and then laid it down.

"We have the list," he said.

She only nodded and then moved to the little fridge and pulled out a container of blood. Drinking it gingerly as she sat at the counter again, she eyed the list and then looked at Wes.

"Any idea what potion they made?" she asked.

His face dropped, "No."

She hung her head and put her hands on the back of her neck, "That's unacceptable," she said in simple disappointment.

Gunn eyed her incredulously, "You got some nerve, you know that?" he asked her, walking closer.

"Gunn," Lorne forewarned, moving closer to Hope.

"I don't see you helping us out any."

Hope remained calmly detached, "I shouldn't have to."

"Then why the hell you riding us?" he almost yelled at her.

"Because you need me to."

"Like hell we do! Maybe Angel needs you to ride him every once in a while, but we don't! We're doing the best that we can!"

Hope looked up at his sexual insult and her eyes were cold and hard, "I know what your problem is, Charles."

He eyed her expectantly, "Show me the light."

"You want control but you don't want responsibility. You're willing to take the back seat if it means you can get your way. You don't, and you attack whoever is on top."

"That is a load of—"

"You have always been the first to break the group apart. Even when you had your gang of vamp-fighters, you always kept a clear line between you and the ones below you. You didn't have a crew; you had a mindless army you'd beaten into submission. They didn't respect you. Never did."

Gunn's jaw worked and he straightened, "You're wrong."

"All you ever were was a gang fighter—the only thing you had going for you was Alonna and then she was gone. Blame it on me all you want—you know it was your fault."

Gunn punched her.

Wesley, Groo and Lorne just stared in dismay and shock as Hope turned to look at him. She grabbed him by the collar and threw him over the counter and hard onto the floor. He landed hard and winced. She approached him. Wesley tried to stop her. She made a swift push and he, too, was on the floor.

She hovered over Gunn; blood from her busted lip trailed down her chin and neck, "No matter what you may think of me, Charles, it would be beneficial to your health to remember that I am a god. I am here out of the goodness of my heart. I could have let you all suffer and die when the First came to get Angel. I wasn't even supposed to be here this long. But I am here. And while Angel is out of commission, you will heed what I say. Do you understand?" she asked, her voice calm yet carrying all the implications of her anger behind it.

Slightly shaken and still lying on the floor, he nodded.

At that, Hope offered her hand to help him up. He took it and stood unsurely. She wiped away the blood from her lips and then walked back to the counter.

They remained quiet for a moment, trying to see if anything could be said to make the time they had to spend together easier for all of them. Hope looked at Wesley as he sat down on the other side of the counter and waited for any sign that Hope had calmed down.

"We need to speed this up," Hope said, keeping her eyes on the counter and not at any of them.

"And how do you expect us to do that?" Lorne looked at her, hoping he, too, wouldn't be pulled over the counter and thrown.

"Any way we can. We need to do something," she said, her voice tired and full of pent-up emotion.

Wesley remained nervously aware of her ability to still dominate them all physically and stayed at a good distance from her quick hand, "Can you go to the Record Keeper? If your book doesn't have the information you need, maybe It will."

She inhaled deeply and took another sip of blood, "No luck. I already checked."

"What about the Old One? Could He help?" Wesley added thoughtfully.

Hope straightened. Again, pertaining to Angel, she was willing to do anything. But she couldn't think about asking for His help if she didn't have His link in her head. She could see the desperate looks on their faces, hoping for her help and her intervention.

She slid from the barstool and walked away to a private room. She needed to be alone for Him to come and she needed to be alone to face the humiliation of asking for His help again. She closed the door and looked around, seeing that the room was desolate and unfurnished like so many other rooms. She reeled back as sights came to the back of her eyes. Bracing herself on the nearest wall, she waited until the sight was taken back and she could move without feeling the water in her head go swish.

She stood and walked back out into the atrium to see the others waiting patiently. She opened a book that she had seen and flipped through the pages. The page stood out in her mind and she stopped at it.

"This is it," she said, holding it out for the guys to see.

"This is the poison?" Groosalugg asked.

Hope nodded.

"You sure?" Gunn asked.

She rubbed her temples, "I'm sure."

Wesley started to look at the main text for the lengthy passage and sighed, "There is an antidote but I don't understand it. Sangre de Madre?"

"That's Spanish," Hope said tiredly.

"I know that, but I've never seen anything like this—I'm not aware of any ingredient that has this name."

Hope straightened, "Do you have the blade?" she asked.

Wesley pulled it from a satchel and unwrapped it from cloth and handed it to her. She took it and eyed it, "This will do. Get the other ingredients together," she instructed.

Wesley nodded, "Of course."

Lorne eyed her as she eyed the dagger, "What are you planning on doing?" he asked.

She turned her steadfast eyes to him and the others, "The recipe calls for a sacrifice. I'm going to get it."

Wesley's eyes widened, "Blood of the Mother. Your blood."

Gunn, Lorne and Groo eyed her. She could feel her cheeks redden for some reason. Lorne approached her, "Your blood?"

"Many antidotes require something precious. You know that," she said defensively.

"I'm very well aware of that, but…" Wesley started.

"But what? Know any other gods around here?" Hope said quickly.

"Can you handle it?" Gunn asked seriously and in true concern.

Hope straightened.

"When Angel drank from you, you lost your mind," Wesley reminded her.

"Not as much blood is needed. I'll be fine."

"But then was different, Hope. Now you're—" Lorne started and quickly caught himself, "You're different now," he compensated, hoping the others didn't catch onto what he knew.

Hope's face showed a mixture of gratitude and defiance, "I'm fine. Let me know when the other ingredients are ready," she finished, looking at Wesley, "Groo, can you come with me?" she asked.

Surprised at her request but nonetheless obedient, Groosalugg followed her as she walked up the stairs. Wesley, Lorne and Gunn eyed her and then looked at one another.

"Curious-er and Curious-er," Wesley quoted.

* * *

Groo watched Hope as she stared for a moment at Angel. There was a sadness in her eyes she seemed to have often. He stepped closer and put his hand on her shoulder. She moved away and eyed the blade she took from downstairs.

"I'll need you to collect the blood," she said quietly. She handed him a bowl that seemed to have sacred writing on it, "Once the blood reaches that line, take the bowl to Wesley and tell him to put the other ingredients in it."

"Yes, Hope."

Taking the blade and kissing it ritually, Hope held out her arm and made a deep slice across her mid lower-arm. The major vessel opened, her blood drained down her arm's side and dripped quickly into the bowl. Some of it splattered and then collected on the wide bottom. Hope winced as she tried to ignore the pain. She never remembered feeling so much pain over so little a wound. Still keeping her gaze away from the bowl to keep from wincing more, she could hear the pitter-patter of drop after drop.

The blood in the bowl, when filled to the line, was about a pint. Although not enough to kill a normal being, it was still enough to make some lightheaded and maybe even queasy. Hope, no longer feeling that power she once had, could feel her head start to float as more and more blood dripped out slowly. She realized the drips were coming less frequently as the wound started to heal itself. She used the tip of the knife to open the slice again, hearing the drips become more frequent.

"We are done," Groosalugg said eagerly as he pulled the bowl away.

At that, Hope dropped the blade and reached for her wound. Pressing her hand against it, she looked to Groo, "I'm taking a shower," she said weakly.

He nodded as he left the room.

Hope turned and slowly walked towards Angel's luxurious bathroom. Turning the cold water on all the way and waiting for it to hit the showerhead, she kept her eyes ahead as she undressed and felt warm blood trail down her arm and drip onto the tile floor. Stepping out of her pants, she parted the curtain and stepped into the ice-cold water. She shivered for a moment, then became well adjusted. Her skin became tighter, her lips turned a lighter shade a pink—almost purple. But it felt good to freeze. It felt good to feel that refreshing pain.

"Do you even know why all of this is happening?" He asked from the other side of the curtain.

Hope remained quiet as more water hit her hard, stabbing her with frozen steel. She didn't want anything to be said, anything to be revealed.

"Young One, you must listen to me. Time is not on your side."

Still, Hope remained quiet.

The Old One paused and then pulled the curtain to one side to see her standing there like a statue, her arm still bleeding but slowing substantially.

"If you don't care, there is no one that can," He warned her.

She looked at him apathetically, "I care. I care about Angel. Not about the world, not about myself, not even about _You_. I am what I am because I made my choices. I accept that."

He straightened and eyed her, "You are the one I chose. You are—"

"Over! My time is over. If I must die before a fortnight, I will die knowing Angel and his company are safe. That was my mission! It is _done_!" she raised her voice to Him.

"You are wrong," He said simply.

"Maybe. But at least I know where my priorities lie."

"I have mine. You have yours. Right now, they are one and the same," He said sadly.

Her stone face dissolved and she looked past him at the door, invisible to her heart as she eyed Angel. She licked her lips.

"Angel?" she whispered.

"And you. Both. If you do not heed me, neither of you will make it."

She focused back on the Old One and swallowed hard, "When?"

"You, soon. Him, not so soon. What happened before cannot be changed. The circle must complete itself."

"When?" she asked again.

"Within a week for you. Less than a year for him and the company he keeps."

Hope shook her head simply, "No…not them, not all of them," she started to stutter.

He nodded, "They will each fall. You've seen it. Fred, Wesley, Gunn, William…you've seen them. Kept it to yourself because you couldn't hurt Angel."

"There was so much pain," she said, knowing what He was referring to.

"It will happen, Hope," He said.

She shook her head once, water flung from her red hair, "No!"

He didn't try to argue with her. He just eyed her, waiting for her face to calm. She started to mist up, her face a mixture of grief and determination. Then the logic He knew she had came to the surface, "The visions are different because you're doing them. You've seen it. You're letting me see it," she reasoned.

He nodded, "You wouldn't believe me if you didn't see them die."

"They won't die!"

"They will unless you can save them."

Hope returned to her face, "How? I can't even save myself."

"You will have that ability when they need you."

Her face blanched, "Leave? Go back and leave them?"

He knew how hard it was for her to hear her option, her only option, "The sooner you come with me, the sooner you can prevent what you've seen from being permanent."

"I can't leave. Not now."

"Then they will all perish," He said simply.

She inhaled frantically, "There has to be another way! Please!"

He could see the warmth behind her eyes, see her powers hidden unobtainably deep, "It will take you all that time to regain what you have lost."

"But I can't leave now. I need them…they need me."

He swallowed hard and took her by the shoulders, "Not anymore. You've outlived your usefulness here. Deep down, you know it."

Her face turned to molten anger and she straightened, "There's a vampire out there who begs to differ," she said, stopping the water pointedly and walking away from Him. She walked towards Angel's closet and started to pull out towels and a set of clothes. He handed her a black top and dark jeans. She eyed it for a moment before she touched it. The silk was so forgotten to her fingers. That luxury was so far gone from her. Taking it from Him, she slipped it on. It fit her perfect and was, of course, made for her.

"You must make a choice," He reminded her.

She couldn't look him in the eye, "I can't leave, Old One."

"Hope?" Wesley asked unsurely as he walked into Angel's room.

She turned to look at him and saw that the Old One was gone. Wesley approached her slowly with the bowl Groo had brought him. He apparently hadn't seen the Old One.

"Yes?" she asked tiredly.

"I've got everything. We're ready," he handed her the book, "But there's a problem."

"Hmm?" Hope asked absentmindedly. Wesley pointed out the passage he was evidently worried about.

"This says it could take up to a week to cure Angel."

Hope remembered her warning, "We'll deal with that," she said simply.

She traded the book for the bowl of antidote and walked over to Angel's bed. Placing it on the nightstand, she gently placed her hand on his shoulder and looked at him.

"Angel?" she asked quietly.

There was no response. She tried again and this time he opened his tired and swollen eyes to look at her. He smiled, more to ignore the pain than anything else.

"Didn't think I'd see you here," he slurred.

She smiled at that, "You're not dead. Not deader, anyway," she corrected herself. She ran her fingers across his cheeks, "I need you to sit up," she said, helping to pull his back against the headboard. He winced in pain. She brought to bowl to his lips.

"Drink," she insisted.

He took one weak sip and spat out what little he had, "Blood," he said, knowing whose it was. He eyed her, "No."

"It's okay. It's a cure," she promised.

"No. I won't drink again," he said.

"You have to, Angel," Wesley said, staying a few feet behind Hope.

She tilted the bowl to his lips again and smiled wanly, "Come on, it's okay," she cooed.

With a disgusted face, he started to drink the contents of the bowl. Hope could smell the other herbs and such through her strong blood. Keeping one hand behind his neck for support, she tilted the bowl further and then took it away as he finished the antidote.

She let him back down onto the bed and ran her hand over his exposed arm. His droopy eyes tried to focus on her and he swallowed, still trying to get the taste from his mouth. She leaned over and kissed him gently on the mouth.

As they parted, he took her hand, "Are you here with me?"

She smiled wanly, "Always."

* * *

Michael walked along the dirtied floor to see his creation. Okay, perhaps she wasn't _his_ creation so much as Angelus'. But she was still stronger for what Michael had done. Her newest kitten was mewing pathetically.

"Have you fed it?" he asked.

She eyed the kitten intently, "I can't remember."

Michael rolled his eyes, "Do you remember what we talked about?"

Drusilla smiled, "Of course. I'm no silly little kitty."

"And?"

"No worries. I'll find what daddy asked for. That little man told daddy all sorts of nasty lies. I'll see into his heart. See it beat, I will," she rambled.

Michael walked closer and ran his fingers across the kitten's back. Drusilla smiled as the kitten tried to squirm from their touches.

"They've given Angel the antidote. You're free to do whatever you want. Just tell me who you need."

Drusilla seemed to stare blankly at the ceiling for a moment, then leaned in closely to Michael, smiling dementedly, "I want them," she snickered, pulling back and looking at her accomplice.

Michael smiled, "You've got it."

* * *

Hope and Wesley walked down the stairs tiredly. Hope could see the graying sky outside as the sun started to rise again. She wished this ordeal would be over soon. That was all she wanted.

"Hey, how'd it go?" Gunn started.

"Yes! Is Angel doing well?" Groo added.

"He drank the antidote," Wesley said for Hope.

"The book says it shouldn't take more than a week to cure him," Hope sighed, sitting on the couch in the center of the lobby.

"That's good, right? It means he'll be peachy from here on out?" Lorne asked hopefully.

"One would think," Hope laid down on the couch and curled up.

"Why don't you get some rest, Hope? You've been going non-stop," Gunn said sincerely.

She eyed him, "I'm all right."

"When was the last time you slept for more than a cat nap?" Wesley asked, seeing her tiredness.

Hope thought. She knew she'd gotten a decent half-night's sleep the night she and Angel had been together. But she, for the life of her, couldn't remember when that was. Was it the night before last or was it farther away in time? She sighed.

"I don't know," she sighed.

"Go sleep. We will wake you if there are any changes," Groo smiled warmly.

Hope sat up defiantly, "No. I'm fine."

"Glad to hear it," Fred said as she walked through the front doors with a small amount of luggage. Hope smiled.

She stood and walked over to Fred, hugging her warmly, "Oh, it's good to see you. I'm sorry you had to come back," she apologized.

Fred eyed her for a moment, "Are you kidding? This is my life, remember?" she joked.

* * *

Angel opened his eyes to see her. He sat up tiredly, the pain subsiding. He blinked a few times to make sure he was seeing what he was actually seeing.

"Cathy?" he asked.

His little sister walked up to him and smiled warmly, "Liam. I've missed ye," she said, her Irish accent thick like his had once been.

He eyed her uncertainly.

She chuckled, "Ye don't think it's me, do ye, Liam? It is. I promise ye that," she pulled the side of her collar down for him to see the vicious bite mark he'd put there two-hundred and fifty years ago.

* * *

Hope and Fred sat in the quiet space of Angel's office. They each had a comfy roller chair and were sitting there, sipping at tea. Fred eyed Hope.

"You don't look fine, Hope," she said truthfully.

Hope smiled, grateful to have another woman to talk to, "I'm a few degrees beyond looking fine," she agreed.

"That bad?" Fred asked, eyeing the once radiant and proud woman.

Hope sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping, "Oh yeah."

The tiny Texan could tell there was so much Hope was dealing with; there was too much for her alone. Even a god could be a human. Hope had reminded them all of that time and again. If not by her human faults, then by her belief and trust in each of them.

"I've been hallucinating. My powers are making Michael appear. He feels real to me. But I know he's not. Angel's sick. There may or may not be a new vampire in town that wants to kill us. There's so much," she droned.

"I leave for a few days and everything goes down the drain," Fred tried to sound like it was a joke.

"It does. Lorne came back. Angel asked him too. I was such a wreck. The guys couldn't handle it. At least Lorne has some idea…maybe more than I do," she admitted, "I can't heal anyone…not even myself. I feel like such a liability."

"You're not," Fred said assuredly.

Hope exhaled sharply, "At least when I went through hell the first time, I knew where I stood. I knew I was losing the war. I knew Angelus was winning. Now…I don't know if I'm even fighting the right battles or if I'm losing another war. Or maybe I am just past my prime. I did what I came here to do. Maybe I should be gone from here," she thought about what He had confirmed, about what He insisted.

"We need you here, Hope."

"Do you?" she countered.

"We all care about you. Angel loves you. You have helped us so much," Fred leaned in, trying to make a point.

"_Helped_. Past tense. I think I'm just doing more harm than good now."

"You're wrong, Hope," Fred said strongly, "I don't think you know how much you mean to all of us. You've saved our lives. More than once. We need you here."

"I can't but think that you're just saying that because you're afraid of standing on your own two feet again."

Fred sighed, "Did I mention Cordy was the good one at pep talks?"

Hope inhaled deeply, "Another painful subject. I feel so bad for Groo; I feel so bad for Angel," she added.

Fred eyed her, "Why?"

"Groosalugg loves her so much. He gave her up so she could be happy. And Angel wanted her so bad. Even after…everything."

"It just wasn't meant to be," Fred answered.

"But it was. The look on Angel's face when I told him the truth. He looked so lost…so hurt."

"He loves you."

"I don't doubt that he does. I just wonder what part about me he loves," Hope said sadly as she took another sip of tea.

"Angel?" Fred said, moving from her chair and out of the office. Hope turned to see him walking down the stairs. She put aside her tea and followed Fred's footsteps.

"You okay, man?" Gunn asked.

Angel caught Hope's eyes, "I am now."

Hope smiled and leaned into him, hugging him tightly. He kissed her on the crown of her head, wrapping his arms around her as well.

"So much for taking a week," Wesley sighed thankfully.

Hope looked at him again, "So much for that," she smiled, then buried her head back onto his chest.

He held her. But behind them all, he could see his sister, eyeing Hope with a dispassionate scowl. Angel swallowed hard and just continued to hold Hope.

* * *

"Are you sure you're feeling better?" Hope asked as she ran her fingers through his dark hair. Angel had had a meal and was now lying peacefully with his head in her lap on the couch. She looked around once to see the others dabbling in whatever they could to find the real thief that was posing to look like her.

"I'm fine. What about you?" he asked, seeing her tired eyes looking down at him.

"A little ragged, is all. Nothing a good night's sleep won't cure," she smiled warmly.

He sat up and eyed her intently, "Why don't you take a nap now. The guys have things covered for now.

Hope sighed, "Mmm, that idea sounds better every time someone mentions it."

"Go on," he gave her a slight nudge.

She kissed him once, "I'm glad you're feeling better," she said, then walked up the stairs and out of sight. Angel watched her go and then walked over to the counter to see a number of books still out for the glamour.

"Why don't you guys go home, take a break," he suggested.

"Are you sure?" Fred asked, looking up and over the rim of her glasses.

"You've all been working non-stop. Get some rest. I'll see what I can find," Angel said simply, closing some of the books.

* * *

Angel nudged Hope gently. She looked up and saw him first and foremost. She eyed him for a moment and then smiled. He was eyeing her lovingly and had a hand over her abdomen. Sitting up, she took his hand in hers and kissed him gently.

"Hey," she smiled.

He rubbed her cheek, "I sent everyone home."

Her brow furrowed slightly, "Why?" she asked innocently.

He put a pillow over her face. Angel held it down and smiled as he started to feel her struggle under his grasp. He fingers clawed at his arms, trying to push him away. He could hear her muffled screams and chuckled in spite of it.

"Angel?" she asked.

He saw her looking at him endearingly.

"Why'd you send them home?" she asked again.

He swallowed hard and stood from the bedside, disturbed by what he'd seen. He looked at the window and saw a few shards of light come in not too far from his feet. Also by the window was Cathy. She eyed him with obvious disappointment.

"Kill her, Liam. Ye'll be free of it all, then," she promised with an exasperated smile.

"No," he murmured.

Hope followed his gaze and saw nothing, "No what?" she asked.

He turned his attention back to her and swallowed hard again, "Something's wrong."

Sliding from under the covers, she approached him, placing a hand on his chest, "You're probably still a little off from the poison. Book said it could take a week to kick in all the way," at his nervous stare off into nothingness, she led him to the bed, "Maybe you should rest. You're mind's just playing tricks on you," she kissed him gently.

At her kiss, he could see Cathy dissipate into nothingness. He could feel his mind slip away as she continued to kiss his jaw line. He gave in for a moment and returned the kiss. As he pulled away, Drusilla was in his face.

He yanked away from her endearing and cold embrace. He swallowed hard and watched her just eye him blankly with that almost—no, completely—psychotic stare of hers.

"What are you doing here?" he asked harshly.

He felt a hand wrap around to the front of his waist and looked over his shoulder to see Hope with her chin on it. He looked back to where Drusilla had been and saw nothing.

"What do you mean?" Hope asked, assuming he was asking her that question.

He shook his head, "Nothing."

"Maybe we should both lie down," she said simply, moving around to his front side. With her hands just under his belt on his hips, she backed up towards the bed. Not wanting her warm hands away from his cold skin, he followed her. She laid down facing him, using her feet to pull the covers over the two of them. Snuggling with the comforter up to her chin, she smiled warmly at him.

"I love you. You know that, right?" she asked.

Still frazzled and somewhat distracted, her voice brought him back to her, brought him away from the sights that haunted him. He nodded once, "I know," he kissed her gently on the lips once. She turned her back to him and he draped his arm over her waist under the covers. Sleeping back to chest, he tried to ignore what he had seen.

* * *

Everything was still. Hope looked around and smiled. Everything, for the time being, was perfectly still. Oh, so perfectly still. She stepped closer to the edge of the path and looked down at the scene below. Down there wasn't still. People died and demons ran loose. She watched apathetically as the ones she cared about fought for their lives. The odds weren't in their favor. One by one, they were cut down. The demons ate their flesh, tore them apart. One by one. She walked on, not caring as screams reached her ears. The pathway stopped suddenly and Hope was left facing Angel. He smiled at her demonically. His lips were lined in blood. Somehow she knew it was the blood of another friend.

"You drank," she stated the obvious.

"You told me to do it," he smiled.

She remained calmed, albeit confused, "No. You're lying."

He came closer to her, running his dirty hands across her silken clean skin, "You just don't want to believe. But you know it was you," he whispered to her.

"I don't remember," she said apologetically.

Standing behind her, he pulled her hair from her neck, "I'll make you."

He sank his teeth into her. She just stood there and allowed it, feeling her consciousness slip away. Ahead of her, she saw Fred. She was obviously dead and gone; her spirit stood for her to see.

"I told you he would betray you," Fred said simply, sorrowfully.

Still not resisting her death, she eyed her, "I know."

"He'll kill all of us once you're gone, Hope."

"I'm sorry," was all she said back.

* * *

Hope sat up and gasped for air, her mind running rampant as the dream faded. Like a true dream, she couldn't remember what she'd been seeing. The dawning of her consciousness pulled away that pure and complete knowledge. Her mortal consciousness. Not her true consciousness. But the voices were familiar, were haunting. She looked around the room once and saw that Angel was still asleep. She got out from under the covers and walked out of the bedroom. She needed to breath. She needed to feel the sun before it dropped again.

The lobby was hollow save for her footsteps. The sun was still bright outside. It wouldn't be gone for a few hours. She walked up the small set of stairs and into the courtyard to feel the sun on her skin. It made her shiver. Not many things made her shiver. The sun, for one. She smiled—and that part in _The Lion King_ when the son assumed the throne. That made her tingly, too. Her skin vibrated from her spine to the tips of her fingers and toes.

Taking in her sun and feeling somewhat reassured, she tried to think of what her dream had been telling her. Voices and evil were there. But it wasn't all evil. There was something she didn't know about. Okay, there was a lot she didn't know about nowadays.

She walked back inside and started the coffee pot water so she could have a cup of tea. She rummaged through the cabinets in the kitchen to see what bags there were. Amazingly enough, she'd run dry her supply of Earl Grey. But, there was raspberry. And an apple cinnamon. That looked good.

Something fell.

It clattered like a sword on an anvil.

Hope froze and held her breath for a moment, trying to discern any threat.

Nothing happened.

She walked out to the lobby quickly with the teabag clenched in her fist. No one was there. The coffee water was just trickling with the unique sound coffeemakers had. Trying to dismiss it as her paranoia, she took a mug from the desk and ripped open the teabag to pour the leaves in. She hated the strainers. She liked looking at her leaves in the bottom of the mug.

Another clatter.

She whipped around and tried to see if there was truly anyone there. She swallowed hard, "Angel? That you?" she asked, trying to keep the fear from her voice.

No answer. But there were rapid footsteps. Hope made her way slowly towards the weapons' cabinet and pulled out a stake and a short sword. With her back against the cabinet, she eyed the lobby.

More footsteps. They sounded like water dripping on plastic.

"I know you're there," she said simply. No answer, just more footsteps, "Come out now and I won't be pissed off enough to kill you," she added.

Something dripped onto her shoulder. She wiped at it and eyed the remnants on her shoulder.

Saliva. Spittle. Drool. Dribble… "Eeych."

She looked up towards the balcony over her. Her eyes went wide as it attacked.

* * *

"So how was it? Being back home?" Gunn asked as he handed Fred a cup of coffee. She smiled warmly, reminding him of so much. He almost didn't realize she started talking.

"—with mom and dad, of course they say hello," she finished.

"Of course."

"I just never realized how long it had been. You know, since I'd been home. Time flies."

"Near seven years, right?" he asked.

She nodded, cupping her hands around the mug, "They kept my room the same. Everything was still there. They never gave up on me," she smiled again.

"You're a hard person to give up on," Charles said, still eyeing her intently.

He knew what he wanted to do. He knew what he couldn't do. But still, he wished things hadn't changed between them. Sure, there was that mojo about all relationships changing, but he had always thought that was a positive thing—not this.

"So, what about the limp?" Fred asked out of the blue.

"What?"

"You were limping a bit when you got into the truck," she noticed.

He shrugged, "Hope and I got into it."

Fred was obviously disappointed, "Charles," she said reprovingly.

"Ain't my fault. She was all with the barking and demanding…not like we're gods, you know," he summed it up quickly.

"But she is, Charles. She has a right," Fred said simply.

"Something's wrong with her. I mean seriously wrong."

"She lost Michael."

"No, I mean something else. She's posturing big time. Makes me wonder what she's covering for," he said, taking a drink of his beer.

"She's grieving. She's close to being immortal. Death hits her harder than us. We have to give her some room."

Gunn sighed heavily, "Everyone keeps saying that."

Fred smiled in mock exasperation, "Because it's true. And, as much as Angel wants us to take the rest of the day off, I think we should get back there. If this new vampire wants to make a move, he'll do it when Hope's alone."

"Naw, she's got Angel. She don't need us," Gunn said quickly.

"Still, we have no idea what this is really all about. Think about it; robberies, explosions, poison…it doesn't seem like normal stuff."

Gunn cocked an eyebrow, " 'Normal'?"

"Normal being the apocalyptic danger we usually get into," Fred smiled tiredly.

"Maybe it's a good thing," Gunn shrugged, "Maybe this is all just a big huff over nothing," he stood, putting the empty beer bottle in the recycling pile.

Fred shook her head after taking a sip of coffee, "Still. We should be there. I'm gonna call Wesley. Tell him to bring Groo and meet us at the hotel," she said.

At the mere mention of her contacting Wesley, Gunn felt his spirit go sour. But, he tried to remain unperturbed, "Maybe you should call the hotel first. Make sure Hope and Angel ain't getting down with them-funky-selves," he smiled.

Fred turned to look at him, blushing, "Charles," she said in shock.

He shrugged, "You weren't here when I caught them on the stairs. For a gal who's grieving, she likes it kinky."

Fred's eyes widened and she blushed more, "You shouldn't be talking like—o_n the stairs_?" she asked, the first half of the sentence hitting her.

Gunn just shot his eyebrows up quickly, smiling from ear to ear. Red at the cheeks, Fred turned to the phone and dialed the number. Her brow furrowed.

"Huh."

"What?" Gunn walked closer to her.

"It said the number is no longer in service," she kept the phone up.

"You dial the right number?" he pressed the receiver down and then dialed the number for the Hyperion. Again, the message came up.

"Don't you think that's strange?"

"Unless they unplugged all the phones," he smiled, reverting to his earlier theory.

Fred smacked him playfully on the chest and depressed the receiver and then dialed Hope's cell phone. After the fourth ring, Fred was kicked to Hope's voicemail. She hung up again, then dialed Angel's cell phone. Again, she was kicked the voicemail. This time she left a quick message and then hung up.

"I'm telling' you they just want to be left alone."

Fred eyed him, "It's been four hours. Even if they did, how long would they take at a time like this?"

"Time like what?"

"All these weird things happening, they wouldn't unplug the phones. Cell phones, sure, but not the lobby phones," Fred said, her tone becoming strained as worry hit her.

Gunn nodded, "Yeah. I get it. I'll call Wes. Keep trying the cell phones," he said as he pulled out his own and started dialing.

He smiled inwardly; Fred and Wesley wouldn't be talking.

* * *

The creature backed away again as the unconscious body rang. Although ancient and yet amazingly modern, it didn't know what was causing the sound. Confused as the body started ringing again, it looked towards the other that stood by it.

He smiled and pulled out a device. After the body stopped ringing, his own device did. He smiled as he read the Caller ID, "You'd better go. They'll be coming soon," he said simply.

The creature loomed over the body and then looked back at the other in silent question. The other considered it and nodded, "Works for me. But don't let them get a good look at you. And no killing," he smiled, "Not yet."

Walking away while tucking the still-ringing cell phone into his pocket, he smiled, "Not yet."

* * *

Gunn held out his hand to stop Fred and Lorne from rushing in as he surveyed the scene. Groo and Wesley kept weapons drawn. The counter was devoid of anything, the items that had once been there now on the floor in a mess. The phone was indeed pulled from the wall and the cordless has been smashed beyond recognition.

Fred eyed him, "I don't think kinky covers it," she said worriedly.

A demon peered up at them from beyond the counter. Fred gasped and Wesley and Groo threw what they had. The creature stood fully and then darted away to the basement, the bolt from Wesley's crossbow narrowly missing. As Gunn started to run after it, he skidded to a halt.

"Oh, God," he mumbled.

The others saw what he saw as they rounded the counter. Behind the counter was Hope. Fred was at her side and saw that shards of broken glass from the new coffeepot were embedded in her forehead. She looked up to the others, "She's alive."

"What was that thing?" Gunn asked.

"I've never seen anything like it," Wesley admitted.

Fred gently pat Hope on the cheek and was pleasantly surprised when Hope gasped and sat up. She looked at Fred, Lorne, Gunn, Wesley and Groo. Lorne eyed her knowingly and just kept his mouth shut.

"What happened?" Gunn asked.

"It jumped me," Hope said simply, "Where's Angel?" she asked quickly, looking around.

"I'll go check upstairs," Gunn offered.

Hope winced, "No. He was here. Down here. When it attacked me. He was watching."

The others exchanged weary glances. Wesley eyed Hope intently and with sympathy, "You were knocked unconscious. Maybe you just imagined it."

She looked at him with dead-serious eyes, "He was here. I know it."

"I'm still gonna check upstairs," Gunn said as he ran off.

Hope stood and balanced herself on the counter. Fred pulled over a barstool, "Just relax. You were hit pretty hard."

"I'm not hallucinating!" Hope persisted, pulling a shard of glass from her forehead and pressing her hand against the streaming wound.

"What was it?" Wesley asked.

"Huh?"

"What attacked you? Do you remember?" he set aside his crossbow and leaned on the counter, trying to take her seriously.

"Mmm. Turok-han," she said quickly.

Wesley's face was a mixture of amazement and concern, "Pardon?"

"A turok-han. You used to be a Watcher, you know what they are."

"They're a myth," he said sternly.

Hope pulled another shard of glass from her face, "No, they're not. They just don't come out very often. Call Rupert! He can tell you they exist!" she said angrily.

* * *

Gunn could hear Hope raise her voice as he walked away quickly. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of another bout of anger. He passed by Hope's old room and looked in to see that it was empty. He trudged up the stairs to Angel's room and walked in. Moving past the French double doors, he saw Angel asleep.

"Yo. Angel," he said.

The vampire didn't move.

"Angel!" he raised his voice.

Again, there was no response. He moved closer and shoved Angel's shoulder, "Angel," he said.

This time, Angel's eyes opened and lifted his head from the pillow. He eyed Gunn for a moment, "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Just making sure you're okay," Gunn shrugged.

"Sleeping. Fine. Why?" he asked, sitting up.

"Because Hope was attacked downstairs."

Angel shot out of the bed and moved quickly. Gunn tried to keep up as the vampire moved down the stairs and jumped the last few to hit the lobby floor. He walked over to Fred and looked around.

"Where's Hope."

"Wesley took her into the office."

As Angel started to go, Fred took his elbow gently, "I'd wait if I were you."

"Why? What's going on?" he asked, looking at the others.

"She accused you of watching her being attacked," Lorne said simply.

Angel's face was blank for a moment. He looked through the large window to see Hope and Wesley speaking; Hope was mostly looking exasperated and gesturing dramatically while taking shards of glass from her skin.

"It's not true," he said simply.

"We know. I think she was just hallucinating," Fred said tiredly.

"But something definitely attacked her," Angel said, getting a glimpse of the disaster zone.

* * *

Michael looked at his accomplice, "You think they'll believe her?"

"Not a word. Not a lick," she smiled.

"Who else do you want for Angel, Dru?" he asked, circling her as the turok-han übervamp in the background growled.

She smiled and listened to her voices, "Dolly will do just fine, for now."

"He's all yours."

She hummed spasmodically, her body in rhythm with the sound, "All mine," she sang as she rubbed her hands together.

* * *

Wesley, Gunn, Angel, Lorne, Fred and Groosalugg stayed in a silent circle. Hope was calming down and keeping herself from bleeding in her old room. With her away from them, they were still afraid to say anything.

"Who wants to say it first?" Wesley asked quietly, timidly.

"She's losing it," Gunn jumped in.

"What about that thing she said attacked her?" Fred asked hopefully, looking between Angel and Wesley.

"A turok-han. They're mythological beasts. No real evidence that they exist," Wesley sighed.

"Could we call Giles?" Fred asked.

"I tried. No answer," Angel crossed his arms over his chest, keeping his opinion to himself.

"But something did attack her," Groo reminded them all.

"It could have been anything at this point," Gunn shrugged.

"So then what?" Lorne asked.

"I think she's past her shelf life," Angel said quietly. He expected the glares he got from everyone else as they tried to comprehend what he had said. He paused a moment, looking at them in turn, "I'm…I'm not trying to be mean. But she had to assume a human body to come down here and help us out. I've seen what she really looks like. Energy. Pure and encompassing energy. I just don't think her body was meant to last this long."

"You're saying she's degenerating? _Deteriorating_?" Lorne asked fearfully.

"Possibly her mind, as well," Wesley added, seeing Angel's logic.

"That would explain a lot. We've all been thinking she's grieving," Gunn started, "Maybe it's more than that."

Fred eyed them all in disgust, "How can you say that? It's Hope. She's our friend!" she argued.

"But we have no idea how this whole thing works, Fred. We don't know what could be going on inside her head…or with her body," Angel said tiredly.

"I am on Winifred's side. Hope is a god. There can be no wrong in her actions," Groosalugg said altruistically.

"She's human, Groo. Gal can make mistakes."

"More importantly, she is a demon," Wesley sighed.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this. How can you treat her like she's some_thing_?"

"Because that's what she is. Some_thing_. We don't know what she really is. Human, demon, saint, satan…we don't know, Fred," Wesley sighed.

"She's saved our lives," Fred added pointedly, "You love her, Angel."

"I can't let that cloud my judgment."

"So what do we do?" Gunn asked.

"Nothing. Not now," Angel said sternly, walking away to his office.

Seeing an opportunity, Lorne followed him, leaving the others there to stare at one another.

* * *

Hope stared at them as they broke apart. Stared at them as they disassembled her bit by bit. Took her down from what she really was. But a part of her couldn't blame them. They couldn't only see what they had in front of them. They didn't know everything. They could never know everything. But Fred and Groo and Lorne were still believers. If not believers, than defenders. She felt a wave of nausea and lightheadedness; she shook her head free of it.

Her cell phone rang.

* * *

Lorne walked into the office and shut the door behind him. Angel eyed him for a moment, "What's up?" he asked.

"I know. About what Hope _doesn't_ have," he said quickly.

Angel kept his gaze on the floor, "I notice you didn't say anything."

"For the same reason you didn't," Lorne added, "Because we care about Hope and what she wants. She wants privacy with this little speed bump."

"Yeah. She's been wanting a lot of privacy lately," Angel sighed.

"And what do you really think about this whole situation?"

Angel leaned back in his chair and eyed Lorne, "Maybe a combination. I don't know. She's been hallucinating about Michael. I don't know if it's guilt or something else."

"Her vibes have been iffy since I got back, Angel cakes. Maybe you're not that far off," Lorne said sadly, almost feeling like he was betraying Hope.

"Fred and Groo don't agree."

Lorne shrugged, "I can't blame Groosalugg. If I didn't see all of her attitudes, good _and_ bad, I wouldn't want to believe it, either. Fred…she cares about Hope," he sighed.

"Why would Hope say that? Seeing me there and not doing anything?" Angel asked.

"Freudian slip, maybe?" Lorne asked.

Angel just kept quiet and looked past Lorne to the opposite wall. He only cocked an eyebrow as Cathy appeared. She walked up to him and smiled warmly. He just stared ahead, not wanting to recognize her.

"She'll give ye away, Liam. Ye have to get rid of her."

"Maybe with everything she's going through, her mind is digging up some nasty memories," Lorne added.

"Possible," Angel said knowingly.

They both turned their attention outside as the others were talking louder. Hope walked by the window with determination and Angel was out of his chair quicker than Lorne. He walked around to the lobby and gently grabbed at Hope's elbow. She tore away from his touch and eyed him strongly, her mind racing.

"Where are you going?" he asked gently, backing away so she wouldn't feel threatened.

"Willy called. He needs help," she said simply.

"You're in no condition to go out fighting," Wesley said quickly.

"It's what I do."

"What did he say?" Angel asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"The thing that attacked me is trying to get in. He got cut off. I think it did," she started walking.

"You're not going out there," Angel said strongly.

"The way you tell it, I'm losing my mind. I might as well make myself useful until then," she spat out, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Realization covered the others and they lost their confident appearances. Gunn stepped forward.

"You know how I am. I wouldn't say it if I wasn't worried," he said simply.

"As touching a notion as that is, I have to go," she said, turning her back on them. She walked out into the sunshine and left them all there to watch her go.

"Do we go after her?" Groosalugg asked.

Angel grabbed up his duster from the counter and put it on quickly. He looked to Gunn and Wesley and Groo, "See if you can't slow her down. I wanna get there first," he said, moving towards the basement access.

They nodded and left through the front doors, running fast. Fred looked to Angel, "Take care of her," she begged.

"I'm trying," he said truthfully.

Fred watched the two groups separate and then looked to Lorne, "She heard us. All of it."

Lorne shrugged, "Then she knows she has you and Groo," he answered.

* * *

Gunn, Wesley and Groo could see Hope walking unbearably fast away from them. They picked up the pace and tried to get closer to her. She stopped in sheer annoyance when they called out her name once.

Groo was the first to approach her around her front side. Wesley and Gunn just stayed behind. She and he shared a glance for a moment.

"Let me go, Groosalugg," she demanded softly.

"I cannot. You are injured," he pointed to her forehead.

She licked her lips, "I'll be fine. Besides, if I'm so insane, there's no chance reasoning with me," she peered over her shoulder at the other two.

"We're just worried. You haven't been yourself lately," Wesley said simply, almost apologetically.

She scoffed, "Angel said it best. You know _nothing_ about me. You don't know _how_ this works or _how_ I'm dealing. Like all humans, you fear what you don't know. And I'll be damned if I let you keep me from doing my job!" she raised her voice, then started walking again.

Wesley grabbed at her shoulder, "I know you!" he said desperately.

She eyed him, waiting for more. Her eyes were tired and her shoulders slumped. He took his hand away from her shoulder and licked his lips once.

"You brought me back from the dead. I was there, in that place, and I saw what you really are. You're all that's good in this world, Hope. I know that. I know why Angel loves you. It's not because of what you do. It's because he saw the real you, too. Yes, I'm worried. Yes, I wonder if you're fine. But I still know what you are."

She didn't show any reaction to his plea, only kept a straight face, "I have to go."

She started walking again.

Gunn and Wesley stood there for a moment while Groo caught up with her again, "Nice story," Gunn complimented.

Wesley never looked at him, "It's not a story," he said, walking away to keep up with Groo and Hope.

* * *

Angel ran up the ladder access into the basement of Willy's new bar and threw open the door at the top of the stairwell to see the place being torn apart. A quick survey told him that Willy was in the corner, afraid and hoping for help. At the doorway, the Turok-han stood.

Angel sighed, "She's not coming that soon."

The demon smiled at Angel, his disfigured face and gray teeth disturbing.

"Willy, you okay?" Angel called out.

Although shaken up, Willy nodded, "Sure thing."

Angel nodded once, "Good. Now, about you," he looked to the demon, "We have to deal with this."

The demon lunged at Angel. Angel was taken down and felt the creature stab his nails deep into Angel's gut. He shoved it off himself and waited tiredly for the next attack.

"Now, now, my pets," a smooth voice called out.

Angel stopped in his tracks to see Drusilla come out from the hallway. The demon walked up to her, basking in her glory.

"Dru, never figured you'd come back here."

"I fly like a birdie. But Angel doesn't fly," she smiled.

"I'm telling you to leave, Dru. Get out of my—"

"Hush! Bad dog! Now, we have some things to take care of like dollies. Like good little dollies, all in a row."

Angel found himself unwillingly listening to her, waiting to hear her next word. She circled around him and ran her fingers across his jacket and shirt.

"Angel has a friend. But poor, poor little ole me doesn't have anyone. So we'll make all the circle even," she smiled dementedly.

She walked around to his front side and smiled, "Now, daddy will do what I want."

"I'm not your—"

"And daddy will keep his tongue or get a caning! So, kill him," she whispered delightedly, looking with her deep eyes at Willy.

Willy looked between Angel and Drusilla. Seeing a look in Angel's eyes that he'd only seen once before, when that Buffy chick was in danger, he got to his shaky feet and tried to run for it.

Angel cut him off, smiling.

* * *

Hope sighed as Groo tried to slow her down. In the back of her mind, she almost knew that Angel would try to stop the intruder by himself. As much as she accepted that she wasn't at full strength, she had to do this. She didn't want Angel doing her job for her. Wesley and Gunn were constantly talking on, saying that she needed to think this through and make a good choice.

She smiled inwardly and let her face turn over. She snarled at them.

"Hope?" Wesley asked.

She sighed again, "I have a job to do," she said, throwing all of her weight behind a large and powerful demonic leap. She landed firmly on a small building top and started to climb the wall up onto the next building, running as she hit the pebble-top roof.

"Dammit," Gunn said.

Groo was taken aback, "I have missed something."

* * *

A demonic-faced Angel wrapped his hands around Willy's neck and smiled, "Think of it this way; you won't have to deal with this city anymore," he promised.

"Angel, you don't want to do this," Willy choked out.

Drusilla smiled, "Ooh, daddy does. Daddy does," she said singsong like.

With that, she and the turok-han moved away so they wouldn't be seen. Angel, on the other hand, snapped Willy's neck with a smile. The body fell to the ground limply.

"Angel? What did you do?" Hope asked, running over to Willy's body.

He backed away and eyed her, his face no longer evil. She stood angrily and let her face turn back to being human. She stared at him fearfully, "Who are you?"

He eyed her, "What are you talking about?"

Her face was full of disbelief, "You snapped his neck."

"He was dead when I got here," Angel countered.

Wesley, Gunn and Groo ran in a moment later. Hope was still staring at Angel in pure fear.

"Stay away from them!" she said as he moved closer to the trio.

"Hope?" Gunn asked.

"What's wrong?" Wesley moved closer to her.

With him at her side, she swallowed hard, "He killed Willy," she accused, staring directly at Angel.

He eyed her sadly, "Hope, he was dead when I got here," he repeated.

They all eyed her, "I saw you. I ran in here and you snapped his neck!" she raised her voice slightly.

He moved closer to her and tried to put a hand on her shoulder, "You know me better than—"

She took a decisive step away from him, "_Don't_ touch me!"

Wesley could see the pure terror in her eyes as she backed away from the man she loved. He put both his hands on her shoulders and made her look at him, "Hope? What did you see?"

"I told you. I ran in here and I saw him snap his neck!"

"I didn't!" Angel said defensively.

Hope looked at him and then around the demolished bar. She knew she'd seen it. Her ears heard the crack of the neck.

She collapsed.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The room was quiet. Hope almost knew it as she woke up. She looked around and saw old surroundings. Old bed. Old pictures. Old apartment. She could see her penthouse master bedroom as she opened her eyes. And things had a fuzziness to them. But then she remembered what she saw. She shot up and looked around. No one was around. She walked out to the living room and saw Angel and Wesley sitting there having a drink.

"Angel? Wesley?"

They both looked at her. Angel walked up to her quickly and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her. Wesley smiled.

"You gave us a scare."

She pushed away from Angel and eyed Wesley, "What? What's going on?"

"You were attacked, remember? You woke up and said…some things. You collapsed after that," Angel said, his brow furrowed.

"What about Willy?" she asked desperately.

Wesley and Angel shared a glance, "How'd you know about Willy?" Wesley asked.

"I was there. I saw what happened," she said anxiously. She paused, unsure of herself suddenly, "What happened?"

"He called your cell phone. He said something was attacking him. When we got there, he was already dead," Wesley said simply.

Hope looked between him and Angel, "You took the sewers. You got there first?" she asked of the vampire.

He nodded, "Only by a few minutes. Why?"

"Because I…I had a dream. I saw Angel. Killing Willy," she stammered.

Wesley and Angel exchanged a glance, "I didn't kill him," Angel said simply.

Hope nodded, almost smiling, "No. I guess you didn't. Just a dream. When did I collapse?"

They both seemed somewhat ashamed, "You were on the balcony," Angel said, seeming sheepish.

She knew why they looked so ashamed, "Yeah. I heard what you guys said."

"We weren't trying to be harsh."

She shrugged, "Who knows. Maybe you're right."

Angel took her in his arms and kissed her on the forehead. She was grateful for the contact and let herself be held. She smiled warmly, knowing it had all been some freakish nightmare. He ran his hands down her back and just kept holding her.

* * *

The three of them walked back into the Hyperion from the basement and Hope looked around. Things were being cleaned up from the attack on her life. She wished she could help them out. But she knew she couldn't. She didn't have the strength. Angel walked up to his room for whatever reason. She stayed down in the lobby, wanting to keep in close contact with the others. Lorne walked up to her and smiled.

"Feeling any better?" he asked.

She shrugged, "I guess," she sighed as she poured herself some blood to drink.

"That's not a promising answer," he smiled.

"I had a dream. It kinda freaked me out."

He sat down and patted the barstool next to him, "Tell me about it."

She sat down and smiled disarmingly, "Nothing really."

"Enough to mention it in the first place."

"Yeah, I guess."

* * *

Angel walked into his room and tore off his shirt. The blood from the bar was still on it. As much as he'd wanted to change earlier, he'd wanted to get to Hope even more. Now that she was awake, he could tend to himself. He took a washcloth and wiped away the dried blood around his abdomen wounds. He'd told Wesley about the unique demon he'd seen there. Although he'd heard myths about a turok-han, he'd never before believed in them. After seeing what he saw, though, he had to think maybe Hope was right in her original identification. He poured himself a glass of o-positive and took a sip of it cold, thankful for the refreshment.

"Ye should kill her, Liam," Cathy said.

He spun to see her there, standing, still a child and so beautiful. He swallowed hard, "You can't be real."

"Liam, come now. Ye know better than to doubt me. If I'm not real, then what am I?" she asked, her Irish accent nostalgic.

"The First, maybe?"

She walked up and touched his hand, taking it in her own. Her hand was so pathetically small, taken before it could grow into womanhood-size. Angel swallowed hard.

"Why are you here?"

Buffy appeared and walked closer to Angel, smiling as if he wasn't cautious. At that, Cathy disappeared, her hand taken from his rudely. Angel could only stare at where she'd been.

"We can be anyone you want us to be. _Any_one."

Angel looked to his old flame, "Then why you?"

Buffy shrugged, "Maybe because you won't believe anyone else."

"Believe what?" Angel faced the apparition fully.

"Hope is dying."

Angel just stared at her, trying not to show any reaction to the harsh words.

"You knew it would come to this, didn't you? You don't seem so surprised at the fact. I have to wonder about that…anyway. She is dying and you need to help her."

"She's a god."

"Former. She's nothing now. Because of us. People like us made her what she is…or isn't. You. Me. Your friends. It's our fault."

"We have nothing to do with what's happening to her," Angel straightened defiantly.

"Really," Buffy started to circle round him, "Then what is that I feel in your dead heart? It isn't love."

"You don't know what's in my heart."

"I do. Remember what Michael said? Addiction?"

* * *

Hope walked away from the counter and hoped her talk with Lorne would relieve some of her guilt and confusion. She knew Angel was upstairs. She wanted to be with him, talk to him. She walked over to the elevator and let it open, stepping in.

"You're losing them," Michael said simply.

Hope jumped as he appeared. She licked her lips, "I told you to go away."

"I didn't listen," he pressed the emergency stop button.

Hope grabbed at the wall as the old elevator grinded to a halt, jolting her to the soles of her feet. She could only eye him. Her hope that he was only a ghost, nothing more, was dashed. He could touch things other than her.

"You're not the First," she said, her thoughts coming out.

He shook his head, "Of course not. It's been defeated for the time being. Did a good job on that one, by the way."

"What do you want?"

"I'm trying to help you, Hope."

"You scared me at the graveyard," she said, remembering how he'd jolted her there before Angel had come.

"I didn't mean to. You know that."

"What help do I need from you?"

"A warning."

"About what?"

"About them. The people downstairs."

"Why?"

"You're losing them. And you know it. I warned you about this, remember?"

She shook her head once, not ready to think of anything Michael had told her in life, let alone in death.

"When I found out Angel loved you—that you loved him—in the courtyard? Remember? I said they would all betray you. I said not to call on me because you had them," he moved in closer.

"But I called."

"And I came. I'll always come, Hope. You know that. Some things, like us, transcend death and life. Things like us transcend the rules."

"Then why do I still miss you?"

"Because you're human. More so, now than ever. And they'll distrust you for that."

She shook her head, "They haven't betrayed me. Won't betray me."

"They think you're insane. They won't follow you anymore," he chose his words carefully, enunciated carefully.

"I was hallucinating. That's the only explanation."

"You don't believe that."

* * *

Buffy placed her chin on Angel's shoulder, her warmth breath running past his neck as she spoke, "Deep down, you knew Michael was right. It was only an addiction."

He tore away from her, "You're wrong."

She smiled sympathetically, "No. I'm not. Admit it: you wanted her after he died. You wanted to feel that power. If you truly loved her, you never would have left her alone the next morning. But you did because the power you craved wasn't there. You had to get your kicks somewhere else—beating up on Willy."

Angel shook his head, "You're wrong," he said, his defensive tone failing.

"If she died today, we both know you'd be fine. Mourn, yes. Grieve, no. She's not your world anymore. And she knows it."

* * *

Michael ran his hands through her curly hair, feeling the softest strands and waves by the nape of her neck. She closed her eyes, his touch so welcomed. She turned to look at him, her eyes still watering over their capacity.

"I don't believe Angel would do those things."

"But you know he did. Deep down, you know something is terribly off. And if you go to them, tell them, they'll condemn you. You'll lose them even more."

"Fred and Groo…"

"Have no sway with the others. Even if they did believe you, you'd be labeled insane by the others. They'd make you a pariah. Shut you out if not kill you."

* * *

"Are you threatening her?" Angel asked deeply, ready to kill the visage no matter what shape it took.

"Aren't you?"

"What?"

"Right now, you don't remember. Right now, you think she's losing her mind. But deep down, you know fresh blood stains your soul. And you'll start to remember before the end," she assured him, walking closer and peering into his eyes.

"I would never hurt her."

The figure changed and turned into Hope herself. Angel swallowed hard, reluctant to think about the accusations the real Hope had said, "Not meaning to and not doing it are two different things, Angel. You know how I love semantics," she smiled warmly, "But the truth of the matter is that I am no longer a valuable member of this team. You've known this since Michael died. I'm nothing now."

* * *

"They wouldn't," Hope whimpered, tying to keep her voice from wavering.

"They've already started. Go back downstairs and see if Wesley doesn't have a tranquilizer gun under the counter now. See if Willy's neck _isn't_ snapped."

"They can't hurt me," she said defiantly.

"Who are you kidding? If there's one thing I do, Hope, it's keep things in perspective for you. And we both know they could kill you if they ganged up. If they saw fit, _they could take your life_."

"They're not some mob. They're my friends."

"You heard what they were saying. Heard what Angel said. He doesn't believe in you anymore, Hope."

She pushed him away angrily, "You're wrong!"

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

* * *

Angel found he couldn't face the apparition, couldn't deny its own sayings, "I care for her."

"You_ care _for me?" she scoffed. Her face became angry and she leaned into him, her red eyes drilling through his soul, "You listen to me, Angel: things are getting bad. And before long, you'll realize just how dangerous you are."

"I'm not going to hurt her."

She placed a hand on his chest. He went weak and his lips parted in pain and confusion as something unknown to him was thrust into his soul. Hope's form gave way and changed into Michael's, "Oh, but you will."

Angel looked around, feeling _it_ all around him, forcing him towards insanity. He clasped his hands to his head, trying to block out that voice.

_I know you want it to end, Angel,_ a voice whispered.

"No!" he screamed out, his eyes tearing.

_I can make you free Now let me in!_ the voice demanded.

"Leave me alone!"

_You won't ever be alone! I am near you. I can help you,_ it assured him, its voice sounding so angelic, yet its tone showing its true demon.

"Get out of my head!" Angel begged angrily.

_I'm in more than just your head, Angel. I'm in your mind, your heart, your soul. I am in every fiber of your being. Every want, every desire...I am what you are, Angel._

"No! You are evil. I can feel it around you—leave me alone!" he stood and backed against the wall, his fear driving his tears.

_Can you feel my passion, my power? If you can feel that which I am, you can feel that which I have._

And Angel felt some sense of false security overcome him. It was like inhaling an intoxicating scent and having that moment of nostalgia and peace. He exhaled deeply, then inhaled again, the addictive fumes pouring into every cell in his body. He wanted to resist, he wanted to be strong.

_But you know you can't, Angel. You are alone, weak, and so helpless._

Angel nodded absentmindedly, feeling the high of the power encompassing him, "Yes."

_You need it. _

_"_I need it," he repeated, his eyes closed in the ecstasy of the power fueling through him. He could feel it, no more evil than good, no more a truth than a lie...but it was strong.

And it was completely and blissfully intoxicating. He knew he should turn away and ignore the power being offered him, ignore the strength he was feeling...but his mind didn't seem to care—his heart was screaming for freedom from the fumes—but his mind was happy, secure.

He felt everything he'd ever known start to melt away as the source of the power started to take over his body, mind, and soul. Angel's ties to the physical world didn't seem at all important—not Hope, not Buffy, not Wesley or Fred or Charles or anyone—and all he felt was that pure sense of security, of power and strength. A strength he'd thought he'd lost.

* * *

Michael eyed her, impressed, "I hope, for your sake, that I am," he said, moving away and disappearing into nothing.

The elevator started to move. Hope looked at the old readout and saw it was heading back down. The doors opened and she walked back out into the lobby. The warnings Michael had given her were running around in circles, waiting to be confirmed or rejected, set aside or embraced. She walked around the counter. Fred smiled at her.

Pretending to pour some hot water into a mug, she looked around idly and saw the gun. She inhaled deeply, forgetting about the water and moving towards the door.

"Where you off to?" Gunn asked sincerely.

She tried to seem nonchalant, "Bury Willy."

"You're gonna bury him?" Gunn asked.

"Why not?"

"He was just a snitch."

"He was human. My responsibility," she said, starting to move back towards the door.

"Want us to come with?"

She shook he head, "No. I'll be fine."

With that, she was gone.

Gunn and the others looked around and at each other, "That was strange," Fred said simply.

"Closure, perhaps," Wesley allowed.

"Is she well enough to bury a friend?" Groosalugg tied up the trash bag.

"Being well has nothing to do with it. She needs to do it in her mind," Wesley sighed.

* * *

Hope walked briskly as the sun started to fade behind the buildings and mountains. Willy's bar wasn't that far away by car, but she knew it would be dark before she made it there. But she reveled in being outside. Albeit her reason for going out wasn't the greatest one, but she was out. Out of the Hyperion, out of her penthouse.

The sun was gone by the time she opened the padlocked door to the bar. It creaked and she wasn't surprised to see that his place was dirty and filled with stagnant blood and debris. Willy's body was lying there, on the floor. His eyes were open, facing nothing. She walked in and prayed that he was drained, not just killed. Kneeling down next to him, she ran her fingers over his lids, closing them. His body was room temperature. She looked on either side of his neck only to see that there were no puncture wounds. Her heart skipped a beat. Wrapping her fingers around his neck, she could feel the break.

She stood compulsively and backed away from the body slowly. She didn't want to think that somehow, someway, Angel was killing. She wanted it to be a bad dream. Still backing away, she didn't know where to go or what to do. Michael—or whatever it was that came to her—was right. The others wouldn't believe her. They would distrust her more than they already did. And she couldn't afford that.

She ran from the bar and towards the only other place she knew of that could be safe for her until she figured out what was going on.

Walking through the double doors of the synagogue, she sighed upon seeing the hexagram Star of David.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Angel woke up to see that Hope wasn't next to him. He looked around the massive bedroom suite that was his and didn't see her anywhere in it. He sighed, knowing she might very well be at her penthouse and still sleeping. He looked at the clock at his bedside table and sighed again. It was past opening hour and she hadn't woken him up. He slid out of bed and pulled on his day clothes, throwing the lounge pants aside.

As he moved from the bedroom area to the living area, he could feel a slight breeze. He paused and looked around, knowing there wasn't any place for a draft to come through. He could feel some primal string of hatred gurgle to the surface and he brushed it away quickly. It tried to get a hold of him. He could feel his face change over unwillingly. He shook his head free again and walked from the room, wanting to find Hope.

He walked downstairs, avoiding the few shafts of sunlight that came onto the steps, and saw Hope at the reception counter drinking hot tea. Hope was reading the morning paper. He cleared his throat and walked the rest of the way to the lobby. Hope looked around to see him and she smiled slightly.

"Good morning," she reached around the counter and pulled out a fresh mug of blood, "Here. Fresh," she offered it to him.

He took it and eyed Hope for a moment, "I missed you this morning."

She looked away and then back at Angel, "I couldn't sleep. I went to pray."

He tried to act nonchalant, "All night?"

"Yeah. Really bad nightmare."

Angel sat at the counter and sighed, "Where'd everyone else go?"

"Wesley took Fred and Groo out for breakfast. They're bringing back doughnuts. Gunn hasn't come in yet."

"Did he call to say why he was late?" Angel asked, taking a sip of blood.

Hope eyed him unsurely, "He never calls. He'll be in when he's in."

Angel raised his eyes over the brim of his glass to look at her, "Really?"

Hope ignored the obvious danger in the vampire's voice and took another sip of her hot tea. Angel stood quickly and moved across the lobby, picking up a pair of staffs from the cabinet. He looked to Hope.

"Feel like sparring?" he asked, playing with one of the quarterstaffs.

She eyed him, "Not really."

He threw the other one at her. She managed to catch it after dropping her tea mug onto the tile floor. It shattered. She sighed heavily, "Nice going, champ."

"You can fix it later, I'm sure."

She eyed him again and slid off the barstool, moving towards him, "What are you getting at?"

He smiled, "You know what I'm getting at."

Hope kept her eyes on Angel, wondering what game he was playing at, "I think I'm up to a little training."

Angel smiled, "Good."

* * *

"Is this your wonderful plan? He won't hurt her," the demon sighed, eyeing Michael.

He smiled, "He won't mean to, anyways."

"What makes you think this whole thing will work out?"

"I have a few cards even Hope never knew about. She won't know it until it's too late."

"Know what?" the demon asked in interest.

"Just how much trouble she's in for."

"You have it all planned out, then?"

"All of it."

"And?"

"Let the games begin," Michael smiled maliciously, watching the unfolding training.

* * *

Angel eyed Hope. He wanted her to take the offensive. He wanted her to attack him. She wasn't in the game. He knew it. She thought she was, but she wasn't. As of now, she only blocked his blows; she didn't do anything to turn them against him.

He swiped at her again at neck level. She brought her aluminum quarterstaff up to block it. He smiled at her and clucked his tongue slightly.

"You're not going on the offensive."

She cocked an eyebrow, "See no reason to."

He swung at her again and this time, much to his pleasure, she tried to throw his grip by spinning the quarterstaff quickly, nearly taking his hand with it. He smiled at her effort and her determined face.

"Taking this a little personal, aren't we?" he asked.

"Doing what I can."

"Nice to know."

He put all of his strength into a quick, decisive blow. She dodged it quickly and fell backwards, off her balance. She looked up at him in shock.

He saw her turn to look at an intruder. He followed her gaze to see a demon come in from behind her. He turned his swipe at the demon. It fell back near Hope and he threw his quarterstaff at its face, throwing it up and backwards. Realizing the futility of the attack, it ran back to the door and into the sunshine and the alley.

He looked down to see Hope. She was sitting there, holding onto her cheek and staring at Angel fearfully. He assumed the demon had hit her at some time when it had fallen. He knelt down beside her and she cringed.

"Are you okay?" he asked her.

She scoffed.

"Where did it hit you?" he asked, looking at her jaw.

"It?"

He sighed, "Where'd the demon hit you?"

She looked at him awkwardly, "There was no demon."

"It attacked us."

Hope pushed herself up from the ground, "There was no demon. You attacked me."

Angel looked between Hope and his quarterstaff and then dropped it. He knew he'd seen a demon. But to hear her say what she'd said…

Some part of him knew he'd attacked her. He reached out for her and she recoiled, pushing herself away from him.

"I swear I saw a demon," he said quickly.

Hope eyed him and nodded, "It's okay."

He shook his head in disbelief; "You know I would never…"

She switched sides of her hand to hold her bleeding cheek, "You got caught up. It's okay," she said sadly, almost apologetically.

"No! I saw a demon. It ran in here and attacked us."

He saw her blood and looked down at the staff he'd dropped. One side of it, on the far end, was covered in blood. He looked back up to Hope. She was just eyeing him uncertainly.

He licked his lips, "I saw it. Maybe you couldn't."

Her eyes hardened, "You attacked me."

He shook his head again, "No."

Gunn walked in and clamped his mouth shut at the sight of Angel and Hope. He saw Hope holding onto her bleeding cheek and quickly walked over to her, seeing the dropped quarterstaff on the floor.

"What happened?" he asked anxiously.

Hope's eyes stayed on Angel as Gunn pulled off his shirt and pressed it against her cheek, trying to staunch the bleeding, "I was attacked again."

"Demon?" Gunn asked.

At his firm touch, Hope winced and pulled her hand away from the wound, "Yeah," she said with eyes closed in pain.

"Where'd it go?" Gunn looked to Angel.

"Angel wasn't here," Hope vouched for him, "I fought it off. It ran to the sewers. Angel just came down a moment ago."

"What it do? Hit you with the staff?"

Hope kept her eyes on Angel, "Yeah."

She watched Angel's eyes mist up slightly. She could feel his agony and his desire to tell the truth.

_Shut it_, she told him silently.

"And you didn't hear anything?" Gunn asked, looking at Angel incredulously.

Angel swallowed hard, "No. I didn't."

Hope took control of the bunched up shirt, "I'll be okay."

The two men watched her walk away and up the stairs to her room.

* * *

Alone in her room with the door closed, Hope tried not to clench her jaw so the blood would clot. She licked her lips and walked into the bathroom. She pulled the t-shirt away from the wound and saw the gash the edge of the quarterstaff had made. She placed her hand over it and tried to heal herself.

It didn't work.

The blood continued to flow down her face and drip onto her shirt. A strip of flesh had been partially torn off and now hung limply. Hope winced as she put it back in place, reaching for the medical gauze and tape. She placed the gauze over it and taped it down. She could only hope that it would keep the flesh in place.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She cursed herself. In all her times as a goddess, she could never remember looking so pathetic and not being able to heal herself. Only when she had been masquerading as a human a month or so ago had she been so helpless. And the fact that Angel had attacked her didn't do much good to make her feel better. He truly believed that a demon had attacked her. He didn't want to believe he could do such a thing. But he did. And Hope sighed, a tear rolling down her cheek. She had lied to Gunn for Angel's sake. She didn't want the others to look at him with suspicion.

Or maybe she lied for fear of condemnation.

He had attacked her.

She thought back to the previous night, knowing he had warned her. But she had thought Angel was an unknown threat to the others…not to her. Never to her. But he had hit her.

There was a knock on the door.

"Go away, Angel," she said loudly, knowing he could hear it.

The door opened anyway and she habitually looked in the bathroom mirror. She saw Gunn behind her, watching her expectantly.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

She licked her lips and wiped her eyes, "Fine."

"You don't look fine. You look a couple a steps down from fine."

"I'm just tired."

"Tell me what happened?"

She turned to face him and eyed him, "What do you mean?"

"I saw the way you were looking at Angel. I'm not stupid."

"Nothing happened. I was attacked."

"Then why the nasty glances at lover-vamp?"

Hope sighed, "I was upset that he didn't get down to the lobby sooner. He should've heard something."

Gunn walked closer to her, "You're lying."

She straightened, "If I am?"

"Listen, you know I'm the first one to point out when y'all do something wrong. But I know when I'm being played. And I know when the people I care about are hurting. And I don't mean just Michael."

"I'm just disappointed in Angel. That's all."

Gunn sighed in resignation. He knew he wasn't going to get anything else out of her, "Okay. I'll stop bugging."

He started to walk away. Hope looked down at the floor, "I appreciate the concern, Charles. It means something."

He nodded in acknowledgement and walked out of the room. He closed the door and left her alone. All she could do what look at herself in the mirror. What a pathetic sight she was. Not what she used to be at all.

The door opened again. This time, when she looked in the mirror, she didn't see him even though she knew he was there.

"Not now, Angel."

"What's going on?"

She spun to look at him, "You hit me."

"I refuse to believe that."

She sighed, "Fine. Then leave me alone."

As she started to walk away from him, he called out after her pathetically. She turned to look and saw fear, pure fear, in his eyes.

"I've been seeing things."

She moved towards him, wondering where this would lead, "Like what?"

"People. People who shouldn't be here. Buffy, my sister…Michael."

Hope wondered if the same thing had visited them. She remained silent. He took a step closer to her and swallowed hard.

"They say things…"

"Bad things."

Angel realized her tone, "What have they said to you?"

"_You_ attacked _me_, Angel. We're focusing on _you_, here."

"Who did you see?"

"Michael."

"Is it the First?"

She shook her head, "His touch…his voice…they're warm. Not the First."

" 'His touch'?" Angel asked, looking at her suspiciously.

"Not like that."

"Of course not like that. What was I thinking?"

She backed away from him, "Why are you talking to me like that?"

He moved towards her, not letting her put more distance between them, "Because maybe I'm sick and tired of you grieving over him."

She eyed him, "Groosalugg understands."

"Oh? Does he, now? Did he comfort you? Give you that shoulder you want that _isn't_ cold?"

"You know that doesn't matter to me. It never has."

"Hmm. Gotta question that," he took another step closer, eyeing her intently.

Hope realized she was up against the wall, "Stop it."

"Why?" he raised his voice.

She jumped, "Because you're scaring me."

His face softened and he backed away slightly, "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"What's gotten into you?"

"I don't know. Hope…what's wrong with me?" he asked her back.

She touched his cheek and sighed, "I forgive you."

"Hope? What's going on?"

He just eyed her, his face softening again. He moved in closer and cupped her wounded cheek in his palm. He sighed deeply and leaned in again. He kissed her gently. She didn't give in and kept herself aware of everything. His kiss became more passionate and less forced. Her heart overriding her brain's fear, she gave in and kissed him. As his kiss moved to her neck, she was, for a moment, afraid. But the far subsided as he continued to kiss her gently, passionately.

She could feel his hands reach for places only he had touched and known. Her own hands ran under his shirt, his cool skin colder than usual. But her mind screamed at her, knowing something was wrong.

She pulled away quickly, afraid to let herself be loved for fear she would lose control of the situation. He only eyed her. She shook her head slightly.

"I can't do this," she said sadly.

He nodded, "I understand."

"No. I don't think you do."

With that and a sympathetic gaze, she walked from the room and down the stairs to see that Groo, Wesley and Fred had come in with doughnuts and leftovers from breakfast. Gunn and Lorne were talking. Fred smiled at her and then her face furrowed.

"What happened?"

Hope shrugged, "Nothing. Another demon," she lied—well, it wasn't a total lie. She found she couldn't meet Gunn's glare and suspicious eyes. She looked to the doughnuts, "For me?" she asked cheerily.

"Help yourself," Groo smiled, opening the box for her to choose from the large selection.

Although Hope took one, she couldn't help but think that Michael was right. She couldn't tell the others. They wouldn't believe that Angel was the one to injure her. He was their true leader. She had just stepped in and was in no place to be accusing him. And, in the back of her mind, she had to wonder just what could make him act like he was Angelus. Had her powers not been enough to completely contain his soul? Was that only link to humanity slowly but surely slipping away? Or was what they were both seeing responsible?

She turned at the sound of footsteps and saw Angel coming down the stairs. She found she couldn't meet his eyes, either. She ate her doughnut in silence and then realized he was sitting next to her as though nothing had happened.

"Breakfast?" Fred offered.

He shook his head, "Already ate."

"I hear there was some excitement while we were gone?" Wesley asked with interest.

"Just a demon," Hope said quickly, getting up from the counter and moving to the computer. They watched her.

Wesley, as well as the others, could feel the room get cold as Angel eyed her. Only she didn't give him any notice. Fred tried to remain happy, "So, Angel, feeling okay?"

He nodded, "Fine. Thanks."

Wesley moved over to Hope while Fred continued to talk to Angel and Groo about whatever topic struck her fancy. He leaned over her shoulder for a moment. She didn't really seem to care or notice.

"I called Giles. He confirms what you said. About the turok-han vampires," he said awkwardly.

Hope knew it was his way of apologizing. She remained quiet.

"I looked into it while you were unconscious, before I called him. These vampires only work for a powerful force. Not just any commonplace vampire," he added, "Rupert said the First used them," he said dangerously.

"This isn't the First. Something else."

"Why not the First?"

"I'd feel it. Something else is pulling the strings."

"What else could have that kind of power?" he asked, not really wanting to hear an answer. To his relief and surprise, Hope sighed and answered:

"I don't know."

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Nothing seemed normal. But then she turned to look at him, "But they don't live where normal vampires would live. They live farther underground. Mostly in caves and such."

"Well, if we're gonna catch 'em underground, best time to go would be now, right?" Gunn asked, looking between her and the others.

She nodded, "Yeah."

"So we suit up?" Gunn asked.

She shrugged, "Why not?"

Angel nodded at that, "Gunn, Wesley, Groo, check it out."

At the thought of being alone with Angel, with only Fred and Lorne around, Hope swallowed hard and walked over to the weapons' cabinet.

"I think I'll go with them," she said, opening it.

"I don't think you should. If these übervamps are after you, I don't want you down there," Angel said; Hope could pick up the slightest bit of danger in his voice and tried to remain calm.

"I'll be careful."

"Angel might be right, Hope," Wesley started, "With the two attacks already, it's safer here."

She eyed him pointedly, "_Here_ is where they attacked. This is the last place I need to be."

Angel eyed her for a moment, getting her need to be away. He stood and shrugged, "Fine then. Groo, you stay here. I'll go with Gunn and Wes."

Hope visibly relaxed. As he started for the cabinet, she moved away, not willing to be close to him. He eyed her a moment longer, then looked to the others, "Let's go."

She couldn't meet his gaze as they walked away. But she knew all the eyes were on her, wondering what had become of her evident sanity. Groosalugg walked up to her.

"Do not worry, Hope. We shall stay with you."

She smiled wanly, "Thanks."

The basement door opened and closed, Hope finally able to breathe since Angel had come down those stairs.

* * *

Angel led the way from the Hyperion basement and tried to ignore the conscious yelling at him for being so cold. Hope thought he was attacking her. He knew that couldn't be the case. He knew he'd seen what he'd seen. The demon had come in and attacked her. But the others…

Cathy, Buffy, Michael…

They'd told him he was a danger to her.

And he shivered as a part of him realized he didn't care.

"She's still a little weird, is all I'm sayin'," Gunn said.

Angel hadn't realized they'd been talking.

"In her mind, we're the enemy on some subconscious level," Wesley explained.

"So, how are we getting to these caves?" Gunn asked, changing the subject.

"The old Pogrom temple has some cave systems leading into it," Angel said randomly.

"Wasn't there a cave-in?" Gunn asked.

"We should still be able to get around the debris and into the caves."

"And the mystical barrier?" Wesley asked.

"Open," Angel said quickly.

"Are you all right?" Gunn asked, eyeing Angel.

"Yeah. Just…thinking."

"About Hope?" Wesley asked knowingly.

Angel paused and nodded, turning to look at his two friends. He took them in. Albeit one had once trapped him in a meat locker and the other had stolen his child, they were, for the most part, his friends, "You don't believe what she's been saying, do you?" he asked sincerely.

"Which part?" Gunn asked.

"About me. The part about me," Angel said quickly.

"She said you killed Willy and watched her be attacked," Wesley said incredulously.

"Do you think she could be seeing things we're not seeing? Things only a god could see?"

"If you did the things she said you'd done, you'd remember. And the only way you'd be doing those things is if you were Angelus," Wesley answered seriously.

Gunn shrugged, "I think she's losing it. I'm going with the shelf-life theory."

"Why? Are you doubting yourself?"

Angel thought for a moment, "No. Maybe I'm just doubting her."

"I'm not ungrateful. Believe me, I'm not," Wesley started, "But we have to accept the fact that she came here to help us against the First. She did that. Maybe she should be back where she belongs. Maybe she really isn't all she was."

Angel left it at that unfavorable opinion and started walking again. The doorway to the once-powerful temple was a simple smattering of debris, bricks and cinderblocks. Stepping through, Angel looked around. A temple much like this was where Michael had died. Where Hope had started to lose her sanity. Stepping down the steep incline of rubble, he remembered rushing in to see the carnage of Hope's full-on attack. She'd done so much for one being. Now, she couldn't take on a simple vampire, let alone the creatures that had once roamed here.

"It stinks in here," Gunn observed.

Angel, his vampiric senses picking up everything, tried to ignore it, "Nothing was removed. All the bodies are still here."

They finished descending the rubble slope and found solid footing by the bodies Angel had so fondly spoken of. Hope had killed many of them. Many more had died when the main hall collapsed. But, Angel could smell cavern air sweeping past them. He followed it towards the back of the main hall, passing the large throne Hr-ann-ouk had sat in. As they rounded a bend, Angel paused.

"Whoa," Gunn exclaimed.

"Eenie-meenie-miny-moe?" Angel asked.

In front of them was stretched out hundreds of cavern entrances. Wesley sighed in exasperation, "So much for finding the turok-han."

"You think they'd come out this way?" Gunn asked hopefully.

"They probably have another way up to the surface. One that doesn't lead them through the temple," Angel assumed.

"So, we head back to the hotel?" Gunn asked.

Angel saw Cathy at the entrance to one of them. He paused for a moment.

"Angel?" Gunn looked at him.

The vampire looked at him, "Stay here for a minute," he said, taking a running start as he threw himself up a good ways to land on an outcrop of rock. He walked around the curve of the wall and followed Cathy towards the cave entrance. He stuck his head in and sniffed, trying to get a smell besides rotting corpses. He found a faint whiff of demon, but nothing strong enough to go on. Although Cathy was farther in, he moved away and climbed back down to the main floor.

"Anything?" Wesley asked.

"No. I thought I smelled something," he said simply, "Let's head back," he said, starting to walk while glancing once over his shoulder at Cathy.

They started to climb the rubble incline. As they reached the top, Wesley was forced down by an übervamp that jumped from the other side of the entrance. Falling unbearably fast and taking the loose sediment with him, Angel and Gunn lost their footing. Faster than the others, Angel grabbed the wrist of the übervamp and tried to regain his balance; he instead brought the grotesquely disfigured vampire down with them.

Wesley grabbed for the sword he'd dropped in the fall. As he lifted it up, another übervamp stepped on the blade. Smiling for a moment as Wesley caught his first real glance at the creature, it threw its foot forward and kicked him in the face, sending him backwards. Angel got to his feet quickly and threw all of his weight into a swing with his sword. The sword went through the thick trunk of a neck and the vampire was dusted.

"Uh, Angel?" Gunn asked, standing and moving away from another vamp, "Do these guys have hearts?" he asked.

Angel turned to see Gunn's stake in the übervamp's chest. The vamp just smiled and pulled the stake from its chest. Helping Wes up, Angel and Gunn stood back to back to back and kept an eye on the two remaining vampires.

"These things can't be staked?" Angel asked Wesley, knowing the former Watcher had done his readings.

"Their hides are thicker. The heart is well protected. Takes a lot more strength to stake them than one of the normal variety," he said quickly, grabbing at a shaft of wood and keeping it close.

"That's great," Angel said, parrying a blow from the nearest vampire as it tried to get his throat with its nails.

* * *

Hope sat at the counter, looking through the newspaper. As much as she didn't want to be by Angel, she didn't want him to face this creature alone. She knew what they were capable of. She'd been there in Sunnydale for the end. She'd seen the hordes that were sent after the Slayers. But Buffy had won.

Still, her mind knew what could happen if they caught the guys unawares. She turned the page and sighed, wanting to have her powers so she could keep an—

She shuddered and felt a swift pain to her temple. She stood spasmodically and grabbed at her temple and the counter edge simultaneously. She could feel hands trying to hold her up.

_Wesley! Angel shouted as he threw his weight behind a blow. The sword in his hands was knocked from his grip and he was grabbed around the neck and picked up from the ground. _

"No!" Hope shouted, opening her eyes.

The sight was gone and she saw Groosalugg, Fred and Lorne in her face.

"Hope?" Fred asked.

She moved away from them and towards the weapons' cabinet. She tossed a sword at Groo and took a morningstar for herself.

"Hope, honey?" Lorne asked.

"They need help," she said sternly, "Fred, Lorne, stay here."

Lorne gently put his hand on Fred's shoulder as the two warriors stormed from the lobby and into the basement. He inhaled deeply.

"They'll be all right," he assured her, hoping he was right.

* * *

Angel, even though he didn't need to breath, found the idea of being lifted from the ground a disconcerting one. He tried to pry the fingers of the übervamp away from his neck and found them to be as stocky and strong as the neck. He knew he was going to be thrown before the vampire recoiled his arm. Sailing through the air, Angel could only wait for the inevitable impact. It came hard and he could feel jagged rocks and poles dig into him. He forced himself to get to his feet and ran towards the two vamps. Gunn was down and unconscious. Wesley was cornered. Angel's eyes went wide as Wes was thrown at him. Angel tried to catch him and only ended up being forced to the ground. They both stood and Wesley looked at Angel for a moment while the vampires smiled and waited.

"We could really use some help right about now," he said, his voice rasp and blood coming from his mouth.

"Until then," Angel said, taking a rock and throwing it hard.

It hit one of the vampires and Angel took some pride in seeing the demon recoil and yelp…then it stood straighter and chuckled demonically. His pride fell again. With Wesley right next to him, he charged. Picking up his sword as he ran, he just wanted to get that one blow in.

But the un-rocked vamp was waiting and grabbed a chunk of cement. Too close to stop himself and the vampire bringing the cement towards him, Angel could feel it slam onto his chest and down him quick. Wesley, undamaged, lodged his sword into the demon's torso and was repaid in kind. The other vamp tore him away and threw him several dozen feet backwards.

Angel coughed up blood and tried to roll over onto his chest to push himself up. The vampire grabbed him by his coat and threw him hard.

* * *

Hope tried to follow Angel's scent, knowing her vampiric sense were just as strong as ever. She knew where this tunnel would lead and, although it made sense to go there, she heartily wished she didn't have to.

She yelped and stopped as a body came through the tunnel wall, bringing cement and cinderblocks fragments onto the sewer tunnel floor. She kneeled next to him and realized it was Angel. Rolling him onto his back, she pat him gently on the cheek. She looked through the hole he'd made upon exiting the temple. Down below was the übervamp. Her mind reeled as she saw another come up beside it. For a moment, her eyes met theirs and she knew.

She knew she would lose if they attacked her and Groosalugg.

She knew she would die.

He had said she'd die.

He'd said it'd happen within two weeks.

Was this how it would happen?

Here?

Now?

The übervamps ran in the opposite direction. Groo looked to her for orders. She found her throat was too tight to give any.

"Hope?" he asked.

"No. We can't right now."

"But they are fleeing!" he countered.

"They did this," she said, looking down to Angel. Her mind kicked in and she looked at Groo, "Stay with him. I need to get the others," she said, running a few feet farther south and into the temple entrance. Unprepared for the sediment incline, she lost her footing and slid on her rear down the slope. At the base was Gunn. She kneeled and put her fingers by his neck and felt a pulse. She turned him over and shook his shoulders gently. He coughed and she pushed down her own reaction as he coughed up blood onto her shirt and face. He looked up to her and smiled in spite of the situation.

"Looks like you were right after all."

"Can you stand?"

He nodded and she helped him up. He made his way to the incline and was grateful as Groo skidded down to help him back up. Hope moved over to Wesley and saw him struggling to get to a sitting position against the wall. He regarded her as she walked closer.

"Dead?" he asked.

She shook her head, "They ran."

"Good. They knew what was good for them" he chuckled before coughing violently. She wrapped an arm under his and around his back, trying to help him up.

"Come on," she urged.

He stood shakily and she helped him to the incline where Groo was already waiting for them. She handed him off to the brave and undefeated champion of Pylea, then turned to look at the ruined temple. The übervamps were already at the farthest side, creeping and moving their way towards the adjoining hall. Even if she could beat them, she couldn't catch up with them. She waited at the bottom while Groo helped Wesley up. With all the commotion, the sediment incline was too unstable to climb alone.

Her eyes found bodies of creatures she'd killed. Across the way was the throne.

_She spun to see Michael in the air at Shin's mercy, the demon's lumbering voice reverberating through the cavernous temple. Her eyes went wide as she saw her past crushed violently and thrown. Her agape mouth and misty eyes followed his limp body as he landed._

Hope shook the memory away as Groo's hand was on her shoulder. Taking it, she let him lead her up the unstable, steep incline and was glad to see both Wesley and Gunn still standing. As disgusted as she was from the blood on her face, the likes of which belonged to Gunn, she ignored it and knelt down next to Angel. He came around weakly and only eyed her, unable to form a coherent thought before succumbing again to vertigo. Groo moved her aside and grabbed Angel, hefting the vampire over his shoulders, behind his neck. Knowing her love was in good hands, she let Gunn lean on her while Wesley walked on his own.

They made that long walk back to the Hyperion sewer entrance in silence. But, when they got to the lobby, the commotion was all-too-well deserved. Gunn and Wesley sat on the couch and let Fred patch up their wounds. Gunn had been knocked out quick and, although shaky and a little fuzzy on the details of the fight, he was no worse for wear. Wesley had a concussion and was trying to keep from vomiting. Hope made Groo drop Angel off in his room and waited for a moment before going up to see him.

As worried as she was about the others, Angel was her priority. Seeing that Fred, Lorne and Groo could take care of Wesley and Gunn, she ran up the stairs and walked into Angel's room. Although the strongest in the group that had been down there, Hope knew he had taken the greatest beating. The übervamps were like that. They would incapacitate the weakest and kill the strongest. Take out the leader. Although he was wounded, she knew he would come to.

And no matter how afraid she could be of him, she still loved him. She took his hand in hers and watched him move slightly, regaining some consciousness.

"Hope?" he asked.

She nodded, "I'm here."

He tried to sit up but she pushed him down gently, "I need to get them."

"They're gone for now."

He eyed her in question. She knew he was wondering how she'd come from the fight without a scratch. He inhaled deeply.

"Just rest for now. Gunn and Wesley are fine."

He lay down without a struggle and eyed her for a moment, "I'm sorry I doubted you."

She didn't say anything—didn't think anything could be said—and just moved away from the bed. She closed the double French doors behind her and walked back downstairs. Even though he apologized, she knew he still had no recollection of hitting her, of watching her be attacked by the very thing that had just attacked him.

"Hope?" Fred asked.

She looked around and realized she'd walked all the way back to the lobby. She sighed, "He's fine. They beat him pretty bad, but, he'll be fine," she said simply, "And you two?" she asked.

Gunn eyed her, "Thanks for coming."

She nodded in acknowledgement.

"How did you scare them off?" Wesley asked.

Groo beamed with associated pride, "Her appearance scared off the demons," he hailed her with a smile.

She shook her head, "No. They left because it suited them. They weren't afraid."

"But they ran," Wesley wanted to believe Groo and trust that Hope had somehow showed her true strength when it was needed.

"Because it wasn't gainful for them to keep fighting. They proved their point. They didn't need to attack me," Hope sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"What point?" Fred asked wearily.

"That they're stronger than us."

There was silence as the others tried to accept what she was saying. She eyed them, one by one, and smiled sardonically, "They're stronger than us and we don't even know who's controlling them. We don't even know why they came here."

"Giles said they were killed at the Hellmouth in Sunnydale. Leftovers, perhaps?" Wesley asked.

"Maybe. But I have a feeling that something is using them because it knows their reputation. Whatever it is, it knows how hard these things are to kill."

"Angel killed one," Gunn said defiantly.

"And look what the other two did to him," Hope snapped back.

Fred eyed her, knowing her tone was more than just guilt and anger, "You've fought them before, haven't you? Before all this," she said simply.

Hope kept her arms over her chest in insecurity. She just eyed those before her, unwilling to say anything. She remembered being there, in South America, as those demons softened her up for Angelus.

"A long time ago," she said vaguely.

"In the other timeline?" Wesley asked.

She nodded.

"But you won. You beat them," Fred tried to sound cheery.

Hope scoffed, "They kicked my ass and handed it to Angelus on a silver platter. That was when the Old One sent me back—because Angelus killed me. I'm only alive because He stepped in.

"They're more powerful than vampires. They don't act like vampires. They maim and kill and destroy. They were made for one reason: to kill people on our side. They can walk into a home and kill everyone in their sleep. They don't need an invitation. That's what makes them so dangerous," she said simply, looking at the floor in terrible remembrance.

"So the question becomes: what is controlling them?" Wesley asked.

Hope rubbed her forehead in exasperation, "I don't know. Last I knew, only four creatures could summon them: the First, me and my predecessors."

"And you say the First isn't doing this?" Gunn asked.

"No. It would want us to know it. It would want me to know it."

"And with both your predecessors…gone…that means something else has stepped up to the plate," Wesley chose his words gently.

"And I shouldn't like to know what," Hope sighed.

* * *

Angel stood shakily and cursed himself for letting the turok-han for getting the better of him. He moved over to his kitchenette and opened it up, grateful he still had a supply of blood there. He took a sip from the plastic container and held his weight on the counter. Although the major impact from the cement block had been in his gut, his leg was still bothering him from when he landed on it wrong.

He was grateful that Hope and Groo had happened along when they did. He wondered briefly how Hope had known he was in danger. Unable to sense each other's minds, he assumed she'd had a vision of some sorts. Not that she would let him know what it entailed. She hadn't let him known since the first one she'd succumbed to.

He turned to head back downstairs while the others were still around.

Connor was there, smiling at him.

Angel froze for a moment, "You're not the real Connor," he said, some mixture of hope and disappointment in his voice.

The apparition shrugged, "No. He's happy with a new life…new family. But I'm here. And I know everything. He and his new dad are out playing football, by the way. Out in that brilliant, but fading, sunlight."

"He's happy," Angel said, trying to keep the jealously out of his voice.

Connor smiled warmly, "No one else can share that burden. But Hope can. Can't she, dad? She knows. She knows so much."

"Do you have a point?" Angel quipped.

Connor shrugged again, "Just dropping by to say hi. Wanted to ask how my replacement is doing," he cocked an eyebrow.

"Replacement? You mean Hope," Angel assumed.

He snapped and nodded, "There you go! It's all about her nowadays, isn't it? I don't know about you, but I don't think she's doing a bang-up job. I think I could've done better," he smiled.

"You never had the chance," Angel said simply.

"Mmm. And that would be Wesley's fault, right? Took me away. But you forgave him for that. And the fact that he doesn't remember makes it a lot easier. But Hope…now there's a subject I could rant about. Girl's all about being _chosen_. She seems to forget that _I_ came first. She wasn't some _chosen_. She was just some _solution_ to a big cosmic problem."

"Maybe girls just do things better," Angel quipped.

"Yeah, like torture and mayhem and a drop of seduction. Yeah, she does do that better than Michael or I ever could," his son smiled at him.

"That wasn't her," Angel defended her, knowing this thing was trying to get under his skin, "That was the First."

"Whatever you say. You were right to punish her," Connor said indifferently.

Angel straightened, "I never—"

"You _attacked_ her, dad. Took a quarterstaff to her face and blamed it on some demon. Lame. That's why she's not up here…with _you_. You're more powerful than she is now and she knows it. And it scares her because she can't control you anymore."

"Stop it."

"Why? You know it's true. All she's ever done is brought you misery. Some great sex, yeah, but mostly misery. I'm not blaming here. I'm rooting you on. After all, I know a little about _punishment_, don't I, dad?" he came in close with a sinister voice and smile.

"I never blamed Connor for what he did," Angel said simply, confident that would put the apparition back in its place.

The look-a-like backed away slightly and smiled still, "But you blame her," he winked before disappearing.

* * *

Hope stayed under the canopy of the courtyard, grateful for the sun. The flowers were so beautiful this time of day. But night would come soon and bring about the chance of more attacks. Attacks that she had no hope of stopping.

"Hey," Gunn walked out.

She smiled wanly in acknowledgment.

"It'll be a nice night. No clouds out," he said awkwardly.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Yeah. Hanging in there."

She nodded, "Good."

"I wanted to thank you…again," he added.

"For what?"

"For coming for us."

"It's what I do," she allowed.

"Yeah, and forgetting about pulling me over the counter is a good thing. Hate to get on your bad side and need your help," he tried to make a joke out of it.

"You're not on my 'bad side', Charles. Things are tense. Altercations are understandable," she excused him.

"Still, just wanted to say thanks."

"You're welcome," she sighed and paused, "You guys should all get home before the sun sets.

"I ain't leaving you here and the guys inside will say the same."

"It isn't safe here."

"Not leaving," he crossed his arms over his chest.

Hope stood, "Not asking," she started to walk inside. He followed her in and stayed behind her as she eyed the others, "You need to go. All of you," she said simply.

Fred, among the others, wore a look of shock; "We're not leaving you here alone."

"That wasn't a question. It was an order. The turok-han won't know where you are. You should get home before sundown."

"And leave you here with a wounded Angel? Not a chance," Lorne spoke up.

Hope looked from one to the next, "This is not some debate! I can't be worrying about you guys if the vamps come back. I need you all gone so Angel and I can fight."

The comment stung and Wesley was the first to speak; "What makes you think it'll come here?" he asked, eyeing her intently.

"It goes from strongest to weakest. That means it'll come here if it wants to fight tonight. You guys aren't on its list but it will kill you if you get in its way. I can't afford to lose any one of you. Not now," she felt her eyes mist up.

"Hope…" Fred started.

"_Not_ a debate!" she repeated, raising her voice.

"At least let me stay with you, goddess," Groo asked, looking at her pleadingly.

She shook her head, "No. You protect them," she said simply.

There was a general pause around the room and Hope sighed heavily. She knew how torn they were. She knew they cared about her. But she cared about them more.

"If you stay here, you'll get Angel or me killed," she lowered her voice, knowing her words were harsh and yet true.

* * *

Angel watched from the balcony as the main group left. Hope watched them go sadly, knowing a fight was coming. He was just amazed that she'd gotten them to leave. Persuasive as she was, Angel knew he wouldn't have left. He could smell her fear and uncertainty. As nervous as she was about fighting a turok-han, she was more nervous about being in the hotel, alone, with him. And as much as she wanted her friends near her, she cared about them too much to put them in danger.

And the fact that she was afraid of him, of what he could do, stung him hard.

Turning, he walked back up to his room and felt his still-healing body tire quickly. He let himself down on the bed and only wished he could spare her that fear.

"Why spare her?" Cathy asked, walking up to him.

He only eyed her, unsure of what to make of her suggestion.

* * *

Hope sat at the counter, looking around at all the locked doors. As moot as the locking was, she felt some security that the doors would have to be forced open for her to be attacked. She looked up, over her shoulder, in the direction of Angel's room. She assumed he was still resting. She looked at the antique clock on the desk in his office. It was past sundown; she'd been sitting like a duck for hours.

_Sitting like a duck_, she scoffed at herself.

Moving over to the minifridge, she took out some blood and placed it on a tray to bring upstairs. As fresh as his supply was upstairs, she knew the blood down here was fresher. Looking around again to ensure all the locked doors were locked, she started up the stairs.

Hope walked in carefully, the tray balanced on one hand and her other hand opening the door to Angel's room. Angel was right where she'd left him. She smiled thinly to herself and placed the tray on the nightstand. She sat on the bed next to him and realized that he was asleep. She ran her smooth fingers across his forehead.

"I'll make this right," she promised him, her voice nothing more than a whisper.

He spun quickly and grabbed her. She yelped in pure shock. His eyes were demented and yellow. His face was human but she could see the evil inside, behind his eyes.

"Lucy, I'm home," he said hoarsely.

Hope tried to remain calm, "Let go of me," she asked gently.

He sat up, his hands still wrapped tight around her upper arms, "You didn't say please."

She smiled acquiescently, "Please. You're hurting me," she said pathetically, sure it would ring a chord within his clouded mind.

He pushed her back and she hit the wall, the sheetrock cracking. She recovered quickly and stood, watching him grab the glass of blood and chug it. Then he threw the empty glass at her. She ducked, yelped, and it shattered on the wall.

Her mind clicked in comic-book fashion as she remembered what the Old One had said: the circle had to complete itself. She swallowed hard, not wanting this to be her last fight.

"Mmm. That was good. But you know what I really want?" he asked rhetorically.

Hope eyed him, "Something's making you act like this."

"What I want is you to pay," at Hope's confused look, he chuckled, "You see, I was _fine_ until you came along, waving your omnipotence around. A little down, sure. But you just made things _so_ much worse."

Hope swallowed hard, "You don't mean that."

He clucked his tongue at her, "You should know better than to be denying it. I mean, all you did was give me some fine sex and then you nearly got me killed…more than once—I might add. Not to mention what you did to me," he started walking closer to her, smiling at her pained face, "Tearing me open, letting my skin burn with anything you could get your hands on…"

"That wasn't me. That was never me," Hope denied it, a tear on her cheek.

Angel outreached his hand and wiped the tear away, "But you let it happen," he said softly.

He smacked her.

She straightened herself and eyed him in shock, "Get away from me."

"Why? Threatened?"

"You're not Angel."

He smiled, "No. I'm just no longer whipped. You don't have me under your thumb."

"I never controlled you."

"You just played me against Michael."

"I never—"

He jabbed a finger in her face; she cringed, "You just used me to get to him. He dies and your world comes crashing down. I am _sick_ of putting up with your whimpering and your crying. I'm a survivor—you should be paying attention to _me_! But no, you dote on the dead man who used to get your goods!"

Hope ran her fist across his face and he staggered backwards. As he straightened, he started to laugh.

"He wasn't always right but he was a good man. I'll be damned to let you speak of him like that again," Hope said sternly, eyeing him carefully.

Angel sat on the bedside, "Now, I can feel the wheels turning in your pathetic little mind. You know I'm not Angelus so you think I'm no substantial threat. You think I can be reasoned with because I have a soul," he said, then leaped at Hope and threw a kick to her midsection. She doubled over, unprepared. She held onto her gut and looked up at him, her eyes confused and tearing.

"You don't want to fight me. I'm Angel, not the thing inside of me."

"Something's controlling you. Whatever it is, it's driving you to this."

He considered that, then threw his knee up into Hope's face. She was thrown up against the wall, spat out blood.

"The great thing about being driven is the lack of remorse. It's almost as good as having no soul. You see, you locked yourself up with the biggest threat there is: me. Not some übervamp. You sent our friends away to protect them. Now, they can't protect you," he snickered.

He grabbed her by a lock of hair and straightened her so she was at eye level. His face turned over, his demonic eyes finally matching his countenance, "What d'ya say we have a wild night of sex, huh? Should be fun. I recall you like it rough," he threw her towards the bed. She landed with her back on the corner of the bed frame, knocking a pole out of place.

She could feel pain course up and down her spine. She wanted to fight back but she knew it wasn't Angel's fault. She couldn't bring herself to hurt him.

She spat out more blood, "I won't fight you," she said softly.

He smiled at her and got down on his haunches, leaning into her personal space, "I seem to recall Buffy had the same problem when I turned into Angelus. Oh well," he shrugged.

He landed a hard punch to Hope's face. She could feel her eye socket crush and the shards of it cut into her facial muscle.

He continued to smile, "Fight me."

She shook her head softly, "I won't."

He grabbed her neck and threw her through the door. She felt herself roll once and then was tumbling out of control. She felt jagged edges jutting into all parts of her. She stopped and found herself looking up a stairwell at Angel. He grabbed a shard of broken door and held it like a stake. Hope knew what he wanted to do. She forced herself to get up and threw herself over the stair rail, landing two floors down near the main lobby. She ran to the counter and picked up the tranquilizer gun Wesley had under the counter. She could hear footsteps coming after her. She loaded the gun quickly and waited for Angel to appear. He rounded the corner with the makeshift stake in his hand. He spotted the gun and sneered.

"You honestly think you can hit me with that thing?"

She cocked an eyebrow, "I do."

With her free hand, she let loose a bright bolt of light that she knew would disrupt his vampiric senses. She fired the gun as the light wore off. It struck Angel dead in the chest and he eyed it for a minute, smiling once he regained his sight.

"Not good enough," he snarled, plucking it away from his flesh.

Hope only waited, "It will be in a few seconds."

He ran at her. She just remained still, confident that the dart would work. As he neared her, he staggered and then dropped altogether. When his body hit the floor, Hope felt her emotions break free and she cried.

She brought herself under control and picked up the phone. She dialed Fred's number and waited for her to pick up.

The answer was a groggy hello.

"Hey. It's Hope…I need you to call Wesley and Gunn…No, no I'm fine…I don't wanna talk right now…Can you guys just come to the hotel…yeah…thanks," she hung up the phone, assured that her friends would be coming.

Looking back at the dropped Angel, she fought with the tears that wanted to come out. But she couldn't afford the luxury of self-pity. She needed to make herself safe until she wasn't alone.

There were chains in the basement.


End file.
